


It Would Have Happened Anyway

by lesbianophelia



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, au prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 23,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2204682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianophelia/pseuds/lesbianophelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of AU drabble fills, taken from my Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nanny/Single Parent AU

One of the very few things she knows about Mr. Mellark is that he keeps his house pristinely clean. So, of course he comes in while she and Holly are fingerpainting.   
  


“Daddy!” Holly calls when he lets himself in through the back door. She runs for him while he takes his jacket off, and Katniss wants to tell her to be careful not to stain Mr. Mellarks’ white button-down shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care. He holds his arms out for her to jump into, and holds her tightly. “We’re fingerpainting.”   
  
“I see that,” he says, grinning. He usually comes home late at night, when his daughter is in bed, so Katniss doesn’t get to see them interact much. But watching him, she can see why Holly is so crazy about her father.   
“Will you paint with us?”   
  
He glances around, like he’s thinking about it, but Katniss knows that he’s going to say yes before he even answers. “Sure. What are you painting?”   
  
Katniss stands up, and Holly looks almost dismayed.   
  
“You can’t leave! You didn’t finish your tree!”   
  
“I — ah, your father is home,” Katniss says, suddenly nervous now that her boss is here.   
  
“Yeah, but if you didn’t finish your tree …” Mr. Mellark says with a smile that makes something inside of her turn to mush.   
  
“Okay,” she says, moving a seat down so that Peeta and Holly can sit side by side. “Are you off for the day, Mr. Mellark?”   
  
“Call me Peeta,” he says, marking their longest conversation. This one doesn’t even have to do with him paying her. “And, yeah. I finished up early. I’ve been thinking about spending less time at the office.”   
  
“Okay,” she says, watching as he gets to work on a piece of printer paper. She’s not sure what it is that compels her to ask, but she does. “Gonna need me to watch her while you go out on dates?”   
  
He laughs. “No. I think I’m gonna focus on the girls I’ve already got in my life for now


	2. Stealing Peeta's Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> I dare you to write Katniss stealing Peeta's clothes and hoarding them away until he has like two outfits left prettyyy please

It’s his fault, really.   
  
He loans her a hoodie on their first date, when she admits to being cold, and when she tries to give it back at the end of the night, once they’re in the warmth of his car, he shakes her head and says to hold onto it. And she does. She clearly doesn’t realize that it was one of those I’ll-get-it-back-on-the-second-date things. Because she wore it on the second date, but she didn’t even offer it to him.   
  
And he thought it was the cutest damn thing he had ever seen.   
  
Only, she kept doing it. In addition to his hoodie, she takes his University Of Panem sweatshirt. And his favorite tee shirt, the soft green one with the intersecting lines. And even one of his nicest button down shirts. And she looks cute in all of them. So cute that he just pulls on his replacement hoodie after she steals his shirt the morning after he spends the night at her place.   
  
They wouldn’t even have separate closets if they moved in together, he thinks sometimes. Of course, he doesn’t bring it up. Katniss would probably freak out if he were to suggest something like that. She has to be the one to control the pace. She’s always been that way. She made him wait almost two weeks before she called him back for a third date, and when he was finally comfortable enough to ask why, her answer was “Because I liked you too much.”   
  
So, yeah. Maybe it’s playing with fire, just giving her that sort of control, but when it’s over something as stupid asclothing, he’s willing to do it. Until, of course, she pretty much stops wearing her own clothes, save for her jeans. As far as shirts and jackets go, everything that she wears is his, and even though he loves to see her in it, he’s also seriously starting to run out of shirts to wear. And if he replaces his wardrobe, she’ll probably want her pick of those shirts, too.   
  
  
He spots one of his favorite sweatshirts kicked halfway under the bed when he’s over one day. He might be suspicious if it wasn’t for the fact that it was clearly his. So when she excuses herself to go take a shower, he crouches down and pulls it out. But there’s more. All crammed under her bed. Shirts. Hoodies.   
  
“What are you doing?” she asks when she comes out.   
  
“Trying to figure out how long my girlfriend has been a hoarder,” he returns. “I mean, wearing them is one thing. But you’ve just been … stashing them? Is this your way of telling me you don’t like my clothes? Do you want me to buy new ones?”   
  
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t care about that and you know it.”   
  
“What do you care about?”   
  
She glances around, bites her bottom lip, and then mutters out something like “Theysmelllikeyou.”   
  
“They smell like me,” he repeats. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.   
  
“Or, well, they used to. And that one-” she snatches the gray sweatshirt from his hands “-is my favorite. It’s been ages and it still smells like you.”   
  
“But I’m here all the time. You can smell me then.”   
  
“You don’t get it,” she says, tossing the sweatshirt on the bed and going to her dresser to find something to wear. “Probably because you’re a dude.”   
  
He wants to call her a hoarder again. But then he really get to looking at the collection of shirts that are now spread out across the floor. The hoodie he gave her isn’t there, but he knows that it’s because it hangs proudly by the front door. Then there’s the button down shirt he wore the first night he slept at her house, made of a soft gray material. And the band shirt he was wearing the day he told her he loved her. The sweatshirt on the bed was from the first night she met his parents.   
  
“These are important, huh?”   
  
She scoffs. “I know, I know. I’m a total girl. You can tease me about it later,” she says. “But yeah. Makes it easier to sleep. The sweatshirt usually ends up somewhere near my pillow. Not that I really wanted to admit that.”   
  
It’s over. That’s it. He stands up, tee shirt still clutched in his hand, and crosses the room, kissing her before she can get any more embarrassed. She laughs breathlessly. “I have your scarf at my house,” he admits. “First I thought, you know, payback. But it smells like your perfume. And your hair. And I kinda love it.”   
  
“Oh,” she says. “You know … if you wanted to spend more time in the bed … my sheets would probably end up smelling like you after you left in the mornings.”   
  
“You wouldn’t mind that?”   
  
She shakes her head. He grins.   
  
“Me neither.” 


	3. Modern AU - Everlark running away together

“If I asked you to run away with me, what would you say?” Katniss asks. Peeta hesitates.   
  
“ _Run away_?” he whispers back. She grabs him by the tie and drags him up the stairs. Away from the mourning funeral guests and past the closed door of the room she –  _used to_  – share with Prim.   
  
“What’s keeping us here?” she hisses once they’re shut in the game closet. “My sister is –” she swallows hard, forces the words out even though she can feel a sob rising up in her throat “– she’s … she’s gone, Peeta. And she’s not coming back. And if  _you’re_ not happy here either, I don’t see the point in staying.”   
   
He swallows hard.   
  
“I have a bag packed. I wasn’t even –  _God._ I wasn’t even planning on telling you. But if you aren’t happy here, either, well, I don’t see the point in staying.”   
  
“The Marshalls will be devastated,” he points out, leaning back against the door. She shakes her head.   
  
“I’ll be eighteen. They can’t stop me.”   
  
He hesitates.   
  
“I’m leaving at midnight. Next Thursday,” she says. “You don’t have to come. But if you do, meet me. Here.”   
  
  
He’s not going to come. She’s a fool for expecting him to. He has no reason. No reason at all. The bus it is, then. She checks over the note she’s left for her foster family. They’ve never liked her as much as they like Prim, but that’s to be expected.   
  
Save for Peeta, no one has ever liked her as much as they liked Prim. They still deserve an explanation. Just not in person, when they could argue with her. Forbid her for going.   
  
She adjusts the straps on her backpack and sets out down the street. She’s only a block away when she sees his truck, rust illuminated in the moonlight. She stops in her tracks, and he gives her a tiny little honk, and slows almost all the way down.   
  
“Where are we headed?” he asks out the open window, and an elated laugh bubbles out of her throat. The kind she never thought she would hear again. Her eyes fill with yet more tears, but that’s to be expected after these last couple of weeks.   
  
“Anywhere,” she says. “Everywhere. I don’t care.”   
  
“Then hop in,” he says with a grin of his own. 


	4. Everlark Alternate Mockingjay District Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For AmenityEverlark who said:
> 
> Drabble prompt: In which Katniss and Peeta were both rescued, both out in the setting of District Eight when the bombing happens. (Do you get what I'm asking for?)

The wounded from the morning’s bombing are being brought in. On homemade stretchers, in wheelbarrows, on carts, slung across shoulders, and clenched tight in arms. Bleeding, limbless, unconscious. Propelled by desperate people to a warehouse with a sloppily painted  _H_ above the doorway. It’s a scene from her old kitchen, where her mother treated the dying, multiplied by ten, by fifty, by a hundred. She had expected bombed-out buildings and instead finds herself confronted with broken human bodies.   
  
 _This_ is where they plan on filming her. “This won’t work,” she mutters. “I won’t be good here.”   
  
Peeta must see the panic in her eyes. He squeezes her hand, and she’s relieved to not have to do this alone. “You did fine with me,” he reminds her, his voice gentle. “And they don’t expect you to be a healer, Katniss. They just want you to let them see you.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
He reaches out and pulls her braid over her shoulder with his free hand. “Hope,” he says. “You’ll be okay.”   
  
A woman directing the incoming patients catches sight of them, does sort of a double take, and then strides over. Her dark brown eyes are puffy with fatigue and she smells of metal and sweat. A bandage around her throat needed changing about three days ago. The strap of the automatic weapon slung across her back digs into her neck and she shifts her shoulder to reposition it. With a jerk of her thumb, she orders the medics into the warehouse. They comply without question.   
  
“This is Commander Paylor of Eight,” says Boggs. “Commander, Soldiers Katniss and Peeta Mellark.”   
  
 _Mellark_? Right. The Star-Crossed Lovers bit is alive and well. Peeta glances over at her, giving her a weak smile.   
  
Paylor looks young to be a commander. Early thirties. But there’s an authoritative tone to her voice that makes you feel her appointment wasn’t arbitrary. Beside her, in her spanking-new outfit, scrubbed and shiny, Katniss can’t help but to feel like a recently hatched chick, untested and only just learning how to navigate the world.   
  
“Yeah, I know who they are,” says Paylor. “You’re alive, then. We weren’t sure,”   
  
Is there a note of accusation in her voice, or is Katniss reading her wrong?   
  
“I’m still not sure myself,” Katniss answers.   
  
“Been in recover.” Boggs taps his head. “Bad concussion.” He lowers his voice a moment. “Miscarriage. But she insisted on coming by to see your wounded.”   
  
“Well, we’ve got plenty of those,” says Paylor.   
  
“You think this is a good idea?” Gale asks, stepping forward and frowning at the hospital. “Assembling your wounded like this?”  
  
Katniss doesn’t. Any sort of contagious disease would spread through this place like wildfire.   
  
“I think it’s slightly better than leaving them to die,” says Paylor.   
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Gale tells her.   
  
“Well, currently that’s my other option. But if you come up with a third and get Coin to back it, I’m all ears.” Paylor waves them towards the door. “Come on in, Mockingjay. And by all means, bring your friends.”   
  
Katniss and Peeta both glance back at their crew. It takes a moment for her to steel herself, but she follows her into the hospital. Some sort of heavy, industrial curtain hangs the length of the building, forming a sizable corridor. Corpses lie side by side, curtain brushing their heads, white cloths concealing their faces.   
  
“We’ve got a mass grave started a few blocks west of here, but I can’t spare the manpower to move them yet,” says Paylor. She finds a slit in the curtain and opens it wide.   
  
Katniss squeezes Peeta’s hand hard. “Do not leave my side,” she says under her breath.   
  
“I’m right here,” he answers quietly. Even if they weren’t being sold as a package deal all over again, she would believe him.   
  
She steps through the curtain, Peeta, as promised, right beside her.

They have no real hospitals in the districts. They die at home, which at the moment seems like a far desirable alternative to what lies in front of her. And then she remembers that many of these people probably lost their homes in the bombings. Sweat begins to rub down her back, fill her palms. She breathes through her mouth in an attempt to diminish the smell. Black spots swim across her field of vision, and she thinks there’s a really good chance she could faint. But then she catches sight of Paylor, who is watching them so closely, waiting to see what they’re made of, and if any of them have been right to think they can count on them. So she forces herself forward, and she and Peeta move deeper into the warehouse to walk into the narrow strip between two rows of a beds.   
  
“Katniss?” a voice croaks out from their left, breaking apart from the general din. “Katniss?” A hand reaches out for her out of the haze. She clings to it for support. Attached to the hand is a young woman with an injured leg. Blood has seeped through the heavy bandages, which are crawling with flies. Her face reflects her pain, but something else, too. Something that seems completely incongruous with her situation. “Is it really you?”   
  
“Yeah, it’s me,” she gets out.   
  
Joy. That’s the expression on her face. At the sound of Katniss’ voice it brightens. Erases the suffering momentarily. “You’re alive! We didn’t know! People said you were, but we didn’t know!” she says excitedly.   
  
Katniss lifts the hand that’s joined with Peeta’s for emphasis. “We got pretty banged up, but we got better. Just like you will.”   
  
“I’ve got to tell my brother!” The woman struggles to sit up and calls to someone a few beds down. “Eddy! Eddy! She’s here! It’s Katniss Everdeen!”   
  
A boy, probably about twelve years old, turns to them. Bandages obscure half of his face. The side of his mouth Katniss can see opens as if to utter an exclamation. They go to him. Murmur a greeting. He can’t speak, but his one good eye fixes on her with such intensity, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of her face.   
  
She hears their names rippling through the hot air, spreading out into the hospital. “Katniss! Katniss Everdeen! Peeta! Peeta Mellark!”   
The sounds of pain and grief begin to recede, to be replaced by words of anticipation. From all sides, voices beckon to them. They begin to move, clasping the hands extended to them, touching the sound parts of those unable to move their limbs, saying hello, how are you, good to meet you. Nothing of importance. No amazing words of inspiration, even from Peeta. But it doesn’t matter. He was right. It’s the sight of her, alive, that is the inspiration.   
  
Hungry fingers devour her, wanting to feel her flesh. Somehow, people are genuinely devastated when they learn they’ve lost the baby. She wants to come clean and tell one weeping woman that it was all a hoax, a move in the game, but to present either her or Peeta as a liar now would not help their image. Or the cause.   
  
She begins to fully understand the lengths to which people have gone to protect them. What they mean to the rebels. Their ongoing struggle against the Capitol, which has so often felt like a solitary journey, has not been undertaken alone. Not just Peeta was at her side. She had thousands upon thousands of people from the districts at her side. She was their Mockingjay long before she accepted the role. A new sensation begins to germinate inside of her. But it takes until Peeta has helped her up onto a table so she could wave her last goodbye to the hoarse chanting of her name before she can define it. Power. She has a kind of power she never knew she possessed. Snow knew it, as soon as she held out those berries. Plutarch knew when he rescued her from the arena. And Coin knows now. So much so that she must publicly remind her people that Katniss is not in control.   
  
When they’re outside again, she leans against the warehouse, catching her breath, accepting the canteen of water from Boggs and handing it to Peeta when she’s finished drinking. “You did great,” Boggs says.   
  
Well, she didn’t faint or throw up or run out screaming. Mostly, she just rode the wave of emotion rolling through the place. She stretches her fingers out when Cressida starts talking about the stuff they got in there. She had forgotten that they were being filmed.   
  
“I didn’t do much, really,” she says.   
  
“You have to give yourself some credit for what you’ve done in the past,” says Boggs.   
  
What she’s done in the past? She thinks of the trail of destruction in her wake – her knees weaken and she slides down to a sitting potion. “That’s a mixed bag.”   
  
“Well, you’re not perfect by a long shot. But times being what they are, you’ll have to do.”   
  
Peeta squats down beside her, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you let all those people touch you. I kept expecting you to make a break for the door.”   
  
She laughs. “Shut up. Like you wouldn’t have gone with me.”   
  
“No, I would have,” he agrees. “But your mother is going to be very proud when she sees the footage.”   
  
“My mother won’t even notice me. She’ll be too appalled by the conditions in there.” She turns to Boggs and asks, “Is it like this in every district?”   
  
While Boggs explains how many of the districts are under attack on the way to the airstrip, her fingers lace back together with Peeta’s. They are in this as one. She doesn’t think she could do it, otherwise. 


	5. Victor!Peeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Victor Peeta if Katniss was never reaped? Maybe at that festival they have when he comes home?

The country is in love with him. Effie Trinket refers to him as  _the next Finnick Odair_. He smiles politely. Pretends like just the thought isn’t enough to make his stomach turn. He’s grateful not just to be able to go home, but he’s grateful that he gets to go home  _now_. Because he’s not sure how much more he could possibly take. Especially not when Primrose Everdeen’s empty room is just across the hall from his.   
  
He’d ask Haymitch if the nightmares are going to stop. He really would. Only, he’s not sure he wants to hear the answer to that questions. So instead he plays the part he’s supposed to play. Talks about seeing his family again. Carefully – so, so carefully – skirts the issue of what he’s going to say when he sees Katniss.   
  
He really hadn’t planned to see her again. Hadn’t planned to come back. During the first meal he had with his team, after the recap, he looked at the glass clutched him Haymitch’s hand and wondered if they were really the winners. Because what’s waiting for him in Twelve that shouldn’t have been waiting for that little girl? What does he possibly deserve more than any of the others did? Still, he forces a smile onto his face when Effie tells him to. Doesn’t want to seem ungrateful.

But it’s hard to keep up. Especially when he sees Katniss standing, waiting for the train. Waiting for that plain box so that they can bury it and grieve in peace. He’s supposed to say something to them, according to Effie.  _As punishment_ , he thinks, when she goes on and on about manners and honor.   
  
  
Her mother is nowhere to be seen. The crowd quiets when he reaches Katniss, and she looks everywhere but him, but she doesn’t move. She must have been told that this was going to happen. He takes both of his hands in hers. Waits a moment. Tries to convince his voice to be steady.   
  
“It should have been me,” he says, so quietly that he’s not sure she even heard it. That’s it. That’s all he can think to say. Finally, she swallows hard, and she nods.   
  
  
It’s the last he sees of her for months. 


	6. Asthma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: everlark "asthma attack without the inhaler in the middle of the night and the other one sings to calm them down AU" singing!katniss is always beautiful :)

When she wakes up, it’s because of the noises Peeta is making. She thinks he’s crying at first, but he’s not. He’s gasping, as if he can’t get enough air in. She sits up, notices how panicked he looks, and silently prays that he can be quieter, because the last thing they need right now is to have Cato find them.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, smoothing his hair back. “What did you see?”

He shakes his head. Okay. It’s not a panic attack, then. But … “Peeta, do you have asthma?” she asks, remembering the patients her mother would treat. She can’t remember what all was in the tea she would make for them to drink. Not that it would do her much good out here even if she did.

He nods weakly. Tries to speak, but whatever he was going to say is lost in a coughing fit.

“You need to calm down,” she says, pushing at his shoulders until he lies back. “Just … Try to breathe, okay? In and out, in and out,” she tries talking him through it, but it isn’t working. She doesn’t plan on singing, but it happens anyway.

The song is over before his attack is, but it seemed to at least quiet him a little, so she starts another song, but stops just as quickly.

He won’t like that one. It’s about a sailor who loses his leg.

She cycles through the songs she knows. Tries to keep track of whether or not it’s helping. He’s nearly back to normal when she starts on The Valley Song, but his eyes widen a little.

“Don’t stop,” he croaks. “Please.”

“I don’t want to make it worse,” she says, and he shakes his head. Like she couldn’t possibly make it worse.

She won’t let him speak when she’s finished. Just insists that he go to sleep. But she can’t stop him the next day. Not when he talks about the first day of school or how he was a goner as soon as he heard her singing all those years ago. 

 

They find out years later that the Capitol could have sent him an inhaler. He says that it isn’t too much of a surprise that they didn’t. When she asks what he means, he adds - shyly - that it was one of his favorite moments. One that even the hijacking wasn’t able to ruin, even if he did wonder for a while there why she went to the trouble.

“And you understand now?” she asks hesitantly. Because back then, she didn’t even understand, and she was the one who did it.

“I think I’ve got some idea,” he says, giving her a smile. “Though, if you want to help me fill in the blanks …”


	7. Sign Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta is a teacher and Katniss is a substitute asl translator for one of his deaf students

He can’t believe how quickly her hands move. Lily has had a couple of different interpreters before – most recently a big intimidating one named Thresh that he strongly suspects also works as a bodyguard for the girl – but the substitute seems pretty efficient.   
  
Of course, Peeta doesn’t know sign language. So the woman might just be throwing her hands around. He doubts it, though. Some days, not long after he cracks a joke to the class, he’ll hear Lilly laugh. He gets distracted one day, while he talks about watercolors, and when he makes the mistake of trailing off, the interpreter whirls around to glare at him.   
  
“Oh, don’t slow down on my account, Mr. Mellark,” the dark haired girl says, her voice far too cheerful for her facial expression. The class  _ooh_ sand laughs at him, and he feels a little bit like he’s gotten in trouble again. She may be able to work as bodyguard for the girl, too, until Thresh comes back from vacation.   
  
  
  
He learns, thanks to the steady stream of gossip from students and teachers that the substitute’s name is  _Katniss_. She always dresses simply. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s seen her in anything other than dark jeans and a black shirts. He particularly likes one of them. It has lace on the back.   
  
“I like your blouse,” he tells her when she and Lily file into the room, and she looks down, skeptically.   
  
“I’m not supposed to wear anything flashy,” she says, like she’s taking his compliment as an insult. His eyebrows furrow, and then she’s taking her spot not far from her desk.   
  
He may or may not google about ASL translator dress code when he gets home. He’s a little impressed by everything they have to do.

The rumor, by Wednesday, is that Katniss got into signing because her sister lost her hearing when she was around eight. Seeing her with Lily, it sort of makes sense. Especially when they walk back the open door to his classroom, both signing and laughing.   
  
He catches up with her after school has let out. “Katniss!” he calls, and she looks over her shoulder.   
  
“Yes?”   
  
“I was … um, do you want to have lunch with me, sometime?”   
  
“I eat lunch with Lily,” she says, her chin raised almost defiantly. He laughs.   
  
“Yeah, I know.” Oh, no. Hopefully that doesn’t sound as creepy as he thinks it does.  _Keep it together, Mellark!_ “I was thinking, you know, more along the lines of the weekend.”   
  
“Mr. Mellark,” she says, almost condescending. “With us working together –”   
  
“Peeta,” he interrupts. “Call me Peeta, please. I don’t even like the students calling me that, really.”   
  
“– I just don’t think it’s the best idea for us to see each other.”   
  
“Thresh comes back next week,” he says. “We won’t work together then.”   
  
This makes her laugh. “Ask me, then, Mr. Mellark. Maybe I’ll even call you Peeta.”  
   
  
Their first date is the first time he sees her wear color. 


	8. Victor!Katniss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evercloseyoureyes requested: uhh everlark and "Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them." pls??

Caesar Flickerman called her  _a beacon of hope for her district_. From a Capitol standpoint, she guesses she can see that. She’s District Twelve’s first Victor in twenty five years, for one, and having just won a Quarter Quell, it’s brought on all sorts of speculation about Twelve’s luck changing.   
But nobody in District Twelve is that naïve. And while Katniss does what she can without risking getting caught, there’s only so much  _hope_ she has to spread around by the end of her first year as a Victor. Especially when there was never any for her in the first place. 

  
This is what she’s thinking about on the day of the Reaping. Well, that and the fact that Haymitch is slumped down in his chair, nearly passed out drunk already. She’ll have to give him hell about that later. Try to convince Effie to give him a lecture about decorum, though, of course, she’s sure there’s already one coming as soon as they get on the train. She wonders if Haymitch will turn it into a drinking game again, like he did on the Victory Tour.   
  
  
She finds her sister in the crowd. The Square looks so different from his angle.

“Well, well,” Effie Trinket says, trotting over to the microphone and giving it a tap. “We should get started. As always, ladies first!”   
  
Katniss doesn’t know the female tribute. But she must be older than Katniss. She seems younger, though. All of the kids seem so much younger. Her stomach clenches painfully and she spares a glance over at Haymitch, who is blissfully out of it. Maybe he’s onto something.   
  
“And for the male tribute,” Effie says, and again, the crowd draws in a collective breath. It won’t be Gale, but he has two eligible brothers this year. She worries the skin on her bottom lip with her teeth. “Peeta Mellark.”   
  
 _Oh no_ , Katniss thinks, watching as he makes his way to the stage, hands clenched into fists at his sides  _not him._ Not when she still hasn’t thanked him. Not when she owes him so much.   
  
-  
  
The plan starts to form itself by the time the train leaves the station. It’s silly, really, but she can’t help herself. Maybe, possibly, if she could manage to get herself out, then she could get someone else out.   
  
Peeta knows better than to ask Haymitch for advice. It almost surprises Katniss. He’s doing his best impression of a sober person, maybe just to get their escort off of his back. “Katniss,” Peeta says suddenly, almost startling her. “What’s our strategy?”   
  
 “I’ll take you, Peeta, and Haymitch here can take Bristol. We’ll cover more ground that way.”   
  
Bristol scoffs. “Yeah, like hell you’re sticking me with Haymitch!”   
  
“He got me out, didn’t he?” Katniss asks, and the look she gives her is enough to shut her up. Peeta tears at a roll, suddenly determined not to make eye contact. She’ll have to work on that with him. “I will say, though, to start thinking about your interview now. It can be nerve-wracking.”   
  
Peeta nods.   
  
-  
  
“You two came off very strong!” Effie says when they watch the recap, clearly thrilled, and Peeta sort of shakes his head.   
  
“What?” Katniss asks, and he clears his throat.   
  
“Nothing. It’s just … well, you’re sort of a tough act to follow.”   
  
She feels defensive.  _Act?_ Is that what he thinks of her?  
  
-   
  
The fire the stylists chose this year is blue. She remembers her father telling her that it was the hottest type when she was little. The whole look works for Peeta, even with the black smudges under and around his eyes, and the way his hair has been carefully styled to suggest that he woke up that way. He gives the audience winning smiles all through the parade, waving and pretending to catch kisses.   
  
“Kid knows what he’s doing,” Haymitch says lowly. “Looks like you picked a fighter.”   
  
She swallows hard and hopes that she did.   
  
-   
  
“We need to talk about how you’re going to get home,” she announces when she sweeps into his room, and she can tell he’s trying not to look amused, but the corners of his lips turn up anyway. “What?”   
  
“Look, not that I don’t appreciate the vote of confidence – I do, really, it’s just, well, this is the first one.”   
  
“No, it’s not,” she says, leaning against the wall by the door. “They loved you tonight. You heard them cheering for you.”   
  
He considers this for a long moment. “My mother doesn’t think I’m coming home. She said, in the Justice Building, just before we left, she said  _at least District Twelve produced one survivor_.”   
  
“She could have been talking about you,” Katniss says, even though, knowing how much of a witch Mrs. Mellark is.   
  
He scoffs. “She was talking about you, Katniss.”   
  
She rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t be stubborn. I’m trying to help.”   
  
“I know,” he says. “But, they already said goodbye. You know? How do you come back after that, anyway?”   
  
“You don’t listen to them,” she answers, and he raises his eyebrows. “You don’t  _ever_ listen to them. You come home and move into the Victor’s Village and make sure Haymitch isn’t my only neighbor.”   
  
This earns her a small smile. She counts it as a victory. 


	9. Unhijacked!Peeta

“The anesthesia hasn’t worn off yet,” one of the nurses warns when she’s on her way into the room, rushing to walk beside her. “We can send someone for you once he’s awake.”   
  
Katniss doesn’t even spare a glance at the woman. She hurries to the bed, kneeling beside it to get a better look at him. His curls are matted against his forehead and he’s covered in cuts and bruises, but he’s  _there_ and he’s  _safe_ and for the most part, he’s  _whole_. _  
_  
“I’m not leaving him,” Katniss warns, and it isn’t long until someone comes in with a chair for her.  
  
Peeta doesn’t seem to sleep very well. Katniss reaches out and takes his hand and her stomach turns at the sight of the skin around his wrist, rubbed raw and cut into by some sort of restraint. She turns his hand over, too curious to realize that she’s risking waking him up. That underside is even worse. She lets go of his hand and wipes at her eyes. This is what wakes him up.   
  
He blinks a few times, completely groggy. He looks a little bit confused at first, but after a moment, a tired, almost loopy smile crosses his face.   
  
“Katniss?” he asks. His voice is hoarse. The sound of it makes her throat hurt.   
  
“Hey, Peeta,” she whispers, not trusting her voice. She reaches out and brushes his hair away from his face, and he leans his head so far into her hand to pin it to the table. “We’re in District Thirteen. We’re safe.”   
  
He actually  _laughs_ , and the sound brings a smile to her lips no matter how drugged up it is.   
  
“What?” she asks.   
  
“Haven’t had a good dream in a while. It’s nice.”   
  
Her bottom lip trembles, and she’s dangerously close to tears again, Peeta much notice, because his eyebrows furrow. “It’s not a dream, Peeta.”   
  
“Aren’t you supposed to be happy, too?”   
  
“I am happy,” she says. “What kind of medicine do they have you on?”   
  
He shrugs and winces at some pain. It doesn’t surprise her, he’s pretty beat up.   
  
“Believe me yet?” she asks, and when he gives her this bright smile that almost counteracts all of the cuts and bruises on his face, she can’t help but to lean down and kiss him. 


	10. Frat House Peeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dracoisalooker76 requested this one. :)

The wedding pictures were terrible. Red plastic cups littering the background. Katniss’ dress wasn’t even  _white_ for God’s sake. Or  _hers._ It was this faded blue color that Peeta had insisted was the most gorgeous dress he’d ever seen her in. Granted, even though they had been dating for a solid three years at that point, Peeta hadn’t seen her in very many dresses.   
Backgrounds aside, the quality of the pictures were just as bad. Fuzzy and blurry and drunk-uploaded to Instagram with the shittiest filters possible. One of Peeta’s friends – she couldn’t tell you his name if she tried, even sober – had the foresight to take a video, but he unfortunately spent the entire time filming talking to the girl next to him, so in addition to the footage being shaky, it was also inaudible. But Peeta was so happy. Even in the worst shots, looking at them later, Katniss could tell. This dopey smile on his face that was probably only a good fifteen percent because of the beer.    
  
It was no secret that Peeta wanted to get married. And even less of a secret that Katniss was hesitant at best about the whole ordeal. At least, when he first brought it up, she was. But the more she thought about it, the more she noticed him doing things that she had thought she would hate – pulling chairs out, opening doors, waiting for her to sit down first – the more she realized that it maybe wouldn’t be so terrible. And, of course, there was the old adage that Johanna had drilled into her.  _Drunken actions are sober thoughts_.   
  
He had promised her that she would like the party. And, maybe he was right, in some roundabout way. She sort of hated all of his friends –  _frat brothers_ , he would correct – and as, red cup in hand, he watched them stand in line to do keg stands, she couldn’t imagine how any of them were going for a degree in anything useful. Until Katniss found herself upside down, held up by Peeta and Finnick, political science major and all, listening to everyone count.   
And she didn’t even  _like_ beer, exactly. But she was in proverbial Rome – or Greece? – and she intended to do as the drunken students did. And Peeta was far too proud of her. He threw his arms around her shoulders and informed her that he’s never wanted to marry anyone more than he wanted to marry her just then.   
  
And okay, maybe she didn’t say no. She had no intentions of it, really. Maybe she wouldn’t have even been hesitant if she had been completely sober that night. Or at least, once she really thought about it, she wouldn’t have been hesitant. But when Annie Cresta, one of the only girls in the house Katniss would borrow clothes from, said it sounded like a great idea and that she could borrow her dress, Katniss surprised even her drunken self by saying yes.   
  
  
The guys had set everything up while they were upstairs, trying to make sure the dress would fit. Katniss’ jeans didn’t fit just right on Annie, but nobody really cared. The religion professor, a man named  _Haymitch_ that Katniss vaguely recognized from her second semester, was waiting downstairs, unkempt and drunk as a skunk. Someone must have picked him up, because he certainly wasn’t there before. But Peeta was there, too. And Finnick had managed to scrounge up two bread ties from the kitchen, and it was happening  _it was happening it was happening_ and everyone screamed in approval when Peeta slid the yellow tie onto her finger, twisting it until it closed and laughing when she whispered that he had the wrong finger and kissing her before it was time to at least twice.   
  
-  
She didn’t remember her vows when she woke up in the morning, on the couch right on top of Peeta. Or anything that happened after he put the tie on the wrong finger, really. Everything before that was fuzzy, too, and she was massively hung over but when she pulled her phone out, she had tons of Instagram notifications.   
  
 _Shit._ Prim was going to kill her. 


	11. Soccer!Peeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Anonymous asked for Everlark. High School. Katniss runs into Peeta & Finnick after soccer practice.

Katniss sits in the bed of her father’s old pickup truck, back against the cab, and watches as her sister heads towards the field. There’s still a little bit of time left for the senior boy’s soccer team to practice before they have to give the field up for the middle school team her sister is on, but Prim likes the chance to sit with her friends before practice starts, and it doesn’t make too much of a difference to Katniss. She just brings her laptop and works on her papers for school, or college applications, or whatever it is she’s going to need.   
  
Today, though, the soccer team has been split off into shirts and skins. She watches and wonders if maybe that’s why Prim wanted to come so early. Is she going to have to have a talk with her?   
  
  
As usual, Finnick Odair and Peeta Mellark are the last to jog off the field. But not like usual, they seem to notice her this time, and head towards the red truck.  _Shit_. She keeps her head down and starts typing furiously, hoping it’ll keep her from being noticed. When she glances back up, Peeta Mellark has his shirt on, but they’re close to her truck. Peeta is about two feet away from Finnick, and Finnick is leaning against the tailgate.   
  
“Katniss Everdeen!” Finnick says, like it’s impressive that they found her here. She usually stays in the car, but it’s nice enough out tonight that she changed her routine. She’s regretting that, now. Especially because of the way Peeta Mellark is trying not to look at her.   
  
“Hey,” she says.   
  
“Judging by the laptop, I’m guessing you’re not really the athletic type. What brings you here? Couldn’t help but to try and see us run around while you still could? I’m just sorry Peeta kept you from getting the full experience, what with him taking my spot on _skins_.”   
  
Peeta laughs. “You’re an asshole, Finnick.”   
  
“Um, my sister. She has practice,” Katniss answers, closing her laptop to try to save the battery. She’s not sure how long they’re going to try to talk to her.   
  
“Oh, right!” Peeta says, looking genuinely excited. “She’s number 12, right?” Katniss nods. “She’s so good. And I’m not just saying that ‘cause I like her number.”   
  
Katniss is a little confused until she remembers that Peeta’s jersey has the same number. She offers him a small smile, because his joke doesn’t really merit a laugh. “She is good.”   
  
“They put her in goalie in her last game, and I just about screamed,” Peeta adds. “She’ll like it better once she gets to high school. Chaff has no idea what he’s doing.”   
  
“Oh?” she asks.   
  
“Well, I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with scrimmages,” he nods towards Finnick, as if acknowledging that they just did this. “But I mean, I remember being on his team and as far as I can tell, he’s still a firm believer in laps and scrimmages.”   
  
“And that doesn’t help?” Katniss asks, and Finnick laughs.   
  
“No.”   
  
“I mean, not after a while,” Peeta says. “From what I’ve seen of your sister, she’s good at running. Maybe that’s because of Chaff’s laziness, maybe it’s just natural skill. But I know I would’ve quit when I was on one of his teams if my brother hadn’t showed me there was more to it.”   
  
“So, what should I make her do?”   
  
“You’re tutoring her?” Finnick asks. “Do you have some secret double life we don’t know about?”   
  
Peeta swallows hard, hesitates, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. “I can help. I mean – anything for a fellow  _Twelve_ , right?”   
  
This makes Finnick laugh. She’s already put her number in when he speaks again. “What my friend means to say is anything for  _you_ , Katniss.”   
  
Peeta socks him in the arm, looking up at her like a deer in headlights.   
  
“Call me later,” Katniss says, glancing between Peeta and Finnick. “We can talk about soccer. Or whatever.”   
  
She’s never seen him smile so widely. As he and Finnick leave, she thinks they’re talking about her, but she can only hear bits and pieces, like,  _I told you so_  and  _shut the hell up_ and  _she likes you_ and  _shut the hell up, asshole_ and  _no you’re an asshole_ and  _no you’re an asshole_ , and she kind of laughs, but her phone is ringing by the time her sister’s practice is about halfway over. She closes her laptop again. Peeta Mellark seems determined to make sure this paper doesn’t get finished. 


	12. Paint Drying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swishywillow requested: Prompt: everlark watching paint dry. (imagine me asking with a straight face because I'm 200% serious)

Her fiancé is way more patient than she is.   
It annoyed her, at first. That, and the way he always double knots his shoelaces, and the way he picks up after himself, the way he doesn’t ever leave toothpaste in the sink after he’s brushed his teeth, how he manages not to stay frustrated after he sees a spoiler for something they’ve been watching. How he doesn’t tell her even after she lies and says that it’s fine if he does.   
  
It felt a lot like he was trying to just  _trying_ to better than her. Like it was some sort of a competition or something. Especially at the very beginning of their relationship, when he would surprise her with cookies. She figured that was an attempt to win her over, and maybe it was, but it didn’t stop after they made it official, or even after she accepted his proposal. In fact, after she said yes, he had casually pointed out that the ring on her finger pretty much guaranteed all of the cookies she wanted for the rest of her life. She told him that her decision was looking better and better all the time.   
  
He’s good at handling conflict, too. She had been wary about it, at first, how slow he was to get angry. But when she learned more about his past, more about his mother’s temper, it made more sense. He was hesitant to fight about things. Eager to talk about them. It drove her crazy, at first, but she learned, too. Learned how to explain what it was that got her angry rather than to just storm off. And sure, the idea of moving into a little house scared the hell out of her, but when he explained about how they could split the rent between the two of them and that it would just work out well, she had to admit that he had a point.   
  
  
But that didn’t mean she agreed with him about everything. Especially not when they were in the hardware store, filling their cart with painting supplies, and he laughed at her when she suggested that skip the primer and save themselves some money. She had agreed to the orange color for the bedroom when he had found the right color on a card, but he was adamant that they couldn’t skip this. He kissed her on the forehead, put his hands on his shoulders, and stepped back to look at her.   
  
“That’s probably the worst idea you’ve ever had.”   
  
The other people in the paint aisle were staring at them, disgusted, no doubt, by the public display of affection. That was another thing she’s never been sure how Peeta can pull out of her. She would get uncomfortable even thinking about holding hands with any of her ex-boyfriends in public. But with Peeta, even after he’s teased her badly enough to where she should have been pissed at him, when he came to stand beside her and pulled her against his chest, she let him. Leaned against him, even.   
  
“You’re the artist,” she agreed, because she had nowhere near as much experience with paint as he had, and she had been trying hard to not micromanage things.   
  
  
That doesn’t last the day they start painting, though. Most of their stuff is in the house already. His bed isn’t, because they haven’t spent the night there yet and he wanted to wait for the house to be at least partially ready. For the bedroom to be finished. So he agrees when she says it would probably be a good idea to leave the boxes in the living room until the painting was finished. And he held the ladder steady for her while she taped the ceiling off. He explains why this is important, explains about how much easier it’ll be this way.   
  
He even has reasons for using the primer, but that doesn’t make it seem any less pointless than it did when he first told her they had to. He claims that the color will be more even if the walls are all one color beneath them. And it does feel like a little bit of an accomplishment when they roll the first bit of white paint on over the dingy walls, covering scratches and what looks like drawings. Peeta gives her plenty of encouragement while they do it, asking if she’s sure she’s never done this before and saying that maybe he needs to get a canvas out for her when they’re unpacked. She’s sure she wouldn’t be half as good with a brush, like the one he’s using on the corners and edges of the walls, but there’s something about using the roller that makes her feel like she’s actually good for something. Useful. Helpful.   
  
She even gets to pick the Pandora station they listen to while they work, though she does let Peeta have final say before they use one of the skips. He likes the same kind of music as her, for the most part, but he gets a lot more into pop music than she ever does. He likes to tease her about it, calling her pretentious and saying that she clearly got it from her father. He claims he’ll rub off on her sooner or later. That there’s no point in pretending like the whole point of music isn’t just to have fun. And every now and then, just because she can tell how much he likes one of the songs the station spits out for them, she’ll give it a thumbs up on his behalf. She’s not even sure what the station started off as anymore, because she renamed it “With Peeta” after she added about four varieties to it. That hadn’t been too long after they started dating. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget how happy he had been when he saw it.   
  
  
  
But no matter how much of an accomplishment it feels like when they finish the first coat, she can’t help but to hate it.   
  
“It looks like a hospital,” she complains, sitting down in the middle of the room and stopping the music from playing, mostly because she’s antsy already and has been since he announced that they’re going to have to take a break once they’re finished with the first coat. “Or the inside of an eggshell. I hate it.”   
  
He laughs and comes to sit down beside her. “Actually, eggshell is a completely different shade. Remember? I thought I already explained this.”   
  
She picks at a few spots where the paint dripped on her arms, but it’s dried already, so there’s no point. “You know too much about colors. I think I’m gonna go unpack or something.”   
  
She tries to get up, but he stops her with a hand on her arm. “No. Stay in here with me.”   
  
She scoffs and he makes this ridiculous puppy-dog pouting fact that somehow always works on her. “Really?” she asks. “You’d rather just sit in here and watch paint dry?”   
  
He reaches over and pulls the phone from her hand, even though he sort of has to wiggle it, because of the death grip she usually has on the thing. He slides it across the room, not hard enough for it to hit a wall and break or anything, but just enough to get it out of her reach. Out of his reach, too. “That’s exactly what I wanna do.”   
  
“You’re ridiculous,” she informs him, but she sits down the rest of the way and leans her shoulder against his a little. “We should have gotten internet, first,” she says, not for the first time. “That way I could get my laptop out and we could watch a few episodes of –”   
  
“Oh my  _God_ ,” Peeta groans, flopping onto his back in the most dramatic way he possibly could. He almost takes her down with him, she had been leaning against him so heavily. It takes her a moment to steady herself, but by the time she does, he has his arm slung over his eyes, like he’s that frustrated. “Katniss Everdeen, you are the single most impatient person I have ever met in my life. I hope you know that.”   
  
“I just think it’s stupid to –”  
  
“Really, Katniss?” he asks. “You’re really going to try to explain your way out of this one? Because you won’t win this battle. I’m pretty sure I’ve got Prim on my side, and everyone you’ve ever watched a movie with.”   
  
“I am not impatient!” she argues.   
  
“I’m starting to think we should have gotten the internet first, because if I googled  _impatient_ right now, I’m pretty sure it’d give me a link to your Facebook.”   
  
She rolls her eyes at him. He sits up a little, just propping himself up on his elbows. “I get a lot of stuff done that way,” she argues, and he laughs.   
  
“Yeah, sure, but when’s the last time you actually watched a movie? And I mean watched it. Without your laptop or your phone in your lap or remembering you needed to tell me something or gotten up to get something to eat without pausing it?”   
  
She fixes him with a glare, but he’s not deterred.   
  
“Seriously. I can’t remember the last movie we’ve watched together that I haven’t been completely disgusted by your response to.”   
  
“Not everyone has your attention span, you know,” she says, but she’s sort of smiling. He has a point. She _is_ impatient. And he can somehow sit and binge watch Buffy with her without checking his phone once, even when they’re episodes she knows for a fact he’s seen a million times.   
  
And, of course, that means that his lap is always open for her feet or head or back, which she doesn’t exactly mind.   
  
“Not everyone grew up in a bakery,” he returns, pulling at her arm as a sign that he wants her to join him on the floor. She considers making him pay for his teasing, but she doesn’t. Peeta hasn’t worked in his family’s bakery since he was eighteen and moved away for college, so she’s never been there, but she’d like to, considering how much he thinks it shaped him as a person.   
  
And, okay, maybe she wants to think his father for passing on such an amazing cookie recipe. And son. Whatever. 


	13. Photographer!Peeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Everlark ~ Peeta's photographer looking for a new subject (aka Katniss)?

Madge comes in with her, and she’s a little bit relieved, because if she was alone, she might have just turned around and left when she saw who the photographer was. Because,  _of course_ , sitting on a stool behind a massive camera and messing with the settings is a curly blonde head that she hopes she doesn’t recognize. And, of  _course_ , when Madge calls out, the name is Peeta Mellark.   
  
She did this on purpose. Or at least, that’s the only thing that makes sense to Katniss. Because Madge sort of smirks at her when Peeta heads for them. He hugs Madge instantly, saying how good it is to see her, and he somehow looks just as excited when he turns to see Katniss.   
  
“Hey!” he says, holding his hand out for her to shake. “You must be Katniss! It’s so good to finally meet you. I’m Peeta Mellark.”   
  
She swallows her  _I know_  and smiles at him. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says instead, because she actually hasn’t ever met him, no matter how much time she spent staring at him during lunch in school.   
  
“I do have some bad news, though,” he adds, and when he sticks the hand she just shook in his pocket, she worries that her palms are sweaty and gross, so she wipes them on her jeans. “Cinna is sick. And while I  _can_ do the shoot without him, if you’re uncomfortable with it being just the two of us, we should reschedule. I’d ask Madge to stay, but I know she’s going away for the weekend, so …”   
  
It’s quiet. Katniss glances over at Madge and she raises her eyebrows. Katniss knows her well enough to know that this means that she should definitely stay with him.   
  
“Who is Cinna?” Katniss asks, and Madge answers  _the model whisperer_ at exactly the same time as Peeta explains that he’s the stylist.   
  
“I think you and I can throw a few decent outfits together, between the two of us,” he adds. “And I can skype him in if we face a real crisis. But like I said, it all comes down to what you’re comfortable with. I won’t be offended if –”   
  
“I’ll stay,” she says when Madge elbows her. Madge trusts the guy, and while she’s pretty sure that this whole thing is an elaborate set up because Madge is incapable of keeping her nose out of Katniss’ love life, she thinks Peeta seems trustworthy, too. She’s seen the pictures he’s taken of Madge, and they’re all pretty incredible. “But you know I’ve never modeled before, right? Madge didn’t lie to you to get me the gig?”   
  
Peeta laughs. “Yes, I know. We – Cinna and I – actually prefer our models that way. Since they’re not high fashion shoots or whatever, you can get a much more honest shot with someone who hasn’t been trained on how to hold their eyebrows and lengthen their neck or whatever.”   
  
She nods.   
  
“So, what do you say we get you lit, Katniss?” he asks. She nods and follows him to the little part of the studio he had been sitting in. Getting her  _lit_ mostly just consists of her sitting on a stool and watching while he drags lights around, pointing them at her. It’s incredibly hot under all of the lamps.  She hopes she’ll get used to it.   
  
Madge sticks around for a while, but Gale is there to pick her up before they’ve even taken the first shot, and it’s silly, but she doesn’t want Gale in here to tease her or make her uncomfortable, so she’s relieved.   
  
But that doesn’t stop him from getting a few words in when he picks Madge up. She didn’t even know Gale  _knew_ Peeta.   
  
“She’ll be fine as long as you get her lunch like you said you would,” Gale says when she thinks she’s in the clear. “Just wave a sandwich in front of her when she gets difficult. She’s  _really_ motivated by food.”   
  
Katniss glares at him, not sure why she feels as embarrassed as she does.   
  
“You want me to kick him out?” Peeta offers in a mock-whisper, shielding half of his mouth from the others. “I will, you know.”

They’re alone after that, and it’s quiet while Peeta sorts through a bag of makeup. “So, you know Gale?” Peeta asks.   
  
She nods. “I knew him first. Before Madge did, I mean.”   
  
“You mind coming over here? I wanna try to get some makeup on you before we get started.”   
  
She hops down from the stool and joins him at the little vanity. She hopes this means the end of the small talk, but of course, it doesn’t. “So, you two were roommates. Is that how you knew each other?”   
  
“No,” she says, stopping herself at the last minute from shaking her head. He’s applying foundation. “We went to school together. It’s how I knew Gale, too.”   
  
“That’s where I know you from! We were classmates.”   
  
 _I know_ , she thinks again but doesn’t say. “Small world.”   
  
He’s quiet while he does the liquid eyeliner, and she tries to squirm when it tickles, because she knows how hard it is to do when she tries it, and it must be twice as hard for Peeta, being a guy and all. He’s back to chattering, though, while he works on her hair. He ends up just leaving it down, but he tries a few things before he settles on that.   
  
She feels like one of Prim’s dolls.   
  
“Okay,” he says, stepping back to admire his work. “I may drag you over here again after a few shots and mess around with some lipstick, but I think we’re good for now.”

She nods.   
  
“I want you to be honest with me, Katniss. How are you feeling about all of this? Are you nervous? Excited? Anxious? Ready for it to be over with?” he asks, getting behind the camera. “You can answer. I mean, I’m not going to be offended.”   
  
She crosses one leg over the other when she settles in on the stool. “Nervous, I guess,” she answers. “And I feel kind of silly.”   
  
“Silly?” he asks. “Why?”   
  
“I don’t know. It’s just … this isn’t really me. And I feel a little bit like I might be wasting your time.”   
  
He’s taking pictures of her while she answers. She tries not to focus on that. “I assure you, you’re not. And you’ll be fine. I think Madge was even more uncomfortable than you are the first time I had her here.”   
  
“How many models do you have?”   
  
He takes a couple more shots before he speaks. She apologizes for interrupting and he shakes his head. “No, I’m just trying to think. Well, there’s Madge, of course, and then Johanna, a girl name Annie, and Clove,” he counts off on his fingers and shudders when he reaches the last girl. “She’s horrible, though. Honestly, I have several reasons for hoping you love this, but one of them is so that I can replace her.”   
  
She laughs, and then hopes that she doesn’t end up being a girl that he laughs about to other models. Why does she care so much about what he thinks about her? It’s not like any of this is going to matter after the weekend is over and he pays her. He gives her instructions for a few poses, and she feels stiff, but she does them anyway. It’s still ridiculously hot under all of the lights.   
  
“I need you to try to relax a little bit,” Peeta says. “What helps you relax? Will it be better or worse if I put music on?”   
  
“Better,” she says, and then when he gets up to put something on, she clears her throat. “Unless, you know, your music sucks.”   
  
This makes him laugh.   
  
  
For lunch, Peeta has a pizza delivered to the studio, and she’s afraid that he’s going to something terrible like make her pose with it before she can eat it, but he doesn’t. She gets a proper break, and they sit at a little table together and she surprises herself by telling him about Prim’s photography phase and how her photo shoots were much worse than this one.   
  
“You said you didn’t have any experience,” Peeta reminds her, and she flushes.   
  
“I mean, she was just a kid. It doesn’t count.”   
  
“Doesn’t matter,” Peeta says, leaning back in his chair a little. “When she’s rich and famous it’ll count. How much younger is she than you?”   
  
They spend the rest of the break talking about her sister. He shares his stories about his brothers for when they’re shooting again, because they realized that it’s more calming when he talks to her than it is when he plays the radio.   
She has to change in a little dressing room off to the side, but it’s plenty big enough for her to get dressed in, so she stops him from apologizing every time he sends her to go and get changed.   
  
  
“You’re not afraid of fire, are you?” he asks when he gives her another outfit to wear. The clothes are pretty nice. A little bit more fashionable than anything she would wear on her own, but that’s just because of how expensive they must be. Her favorite is the plaid button-down shirt. Peeta seems to like it a lot, too.   
  
 It’s some hokey autumn shoot, with a fake firepit that she’s supposed to pose around. Peeta explains that they’re going to Photoshop some flames in later, but that she should just pretend. He’s not actually all that bad at her job. She feels terrible at hers, but he keeps saying that she’s a natural and that he owes Madge big time.   
  
“So, you set Madge and her fiancé up?” he asks.   
  
“Inadvertently,” she answers, gathering her hair over one shoulder while she speaks. It’s a nervous habit, but Peeta loves it, taking picture after picture and saying  _yes that exactly do that again_.   
  
“What do you think of that?” he asks.   
  
“They’re good for each other.”   
  
“Yeah, I agree,” he says. “Except he keeps taking her away and messing up my shoots.”   
  
She smiles. “Yeah, I know your pain. She was my roommate.”   
  
“Harsh,” he says.   
  
“So it’s that … and the fact that she feels like she needs to find me a boyfriend.”   
  
He laughs out loud. She’s not sure why.   
  
  
  
He’s only just plugged the memory card into his laptop when he lets out a sigh. Her heart sinks. They’ve been up all night trying to get what Peeta ambiguously calls  _the shot_.   
  
“That bad?” she asks, and he tears his eyes away from the screen, but only for a second.   
  
“Bad? No. Katniss Everdeen, I think I’m in  _love_ with you.”   
  
Her breath sort of stutters in her throat, and she covers it with a laugh, coming over to stand beside him and see the shots he’s managed to pull out of her.   
  
Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad.


	14. I'm Lost (RA!Peeta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'm Lost" Everlark pretty please

“Katniss?” a voice asks, every bit as familiar as the clenching in the pit of her stomach when she hears it asks. He’s her RA, but he referred to himself as her  _mentor_. And she has the world’s biggest crush on him. Okay, pretty much every girl on the floor has a crush on him. But Katniss is pretty sure it’s different for her. He might even like her back. She says that because she’s one of the few girls that aren’t actively vying for his attention.   
  
One of them made him brownies. Katniss wondered if Clove knew that he had grown up in a bakery and then felt embarrassed that she knew that. Peeta hadn’t even mentioned that to her directly.   
  
“What are you doing here?” he asks. And she frowns at him because even though she hates the party and everyone – almost everyone – at it, she has the right to be here. She was invited, after all. But he’s looking at her like it makes no sense that she came, and maybe it doesn’t.   
  
“Um, I’m lost?” she tries, and he laughs.  
  
“I’m not gonna yell at you,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair. “This just doesn’t exactly seem like it’s your scene.”   
  
One of the boys from their floor, Finnick, comes up beside Peeta, clearly drunk, and wraps his arm around his shoulder.   
  
“And it’s yours?” Katniss asks, because Peeta seems pretty determined to ignore the redhead. He laughs.   
  
“God, no. I’m in charge of keys, though.”   
 _  
_“Delly asked me to make sure she gets home safe. She plans on getting – and I quote her directly here – _wasteypants_ ,” Katniss deadpans, and Peeta laughs so loudly that she’s concerned that maybe he’s not exactly sober enough to be in charge of keys.   
  
It’s his place, it turns out. She hadn’t even really realized. She wonders if that’s exactly right, the RA being allowed to throw raging parties, but it’s Spring Break and nobody really cares. Especially not Katniss.

 

 


	15. Homeschooled!Everlark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (For BohemianRider) Prompt: Everlark as home-schoolers meeting at some kind of educational event.

The only thing worse than being homeschooled is being forced to – attempt to – socialize with other homeschoolers. Because Katniss likes to think that there’s a difference. It’s a subtle one, the difference between being homeschooled and doing your school at home, but it’s there. Like, you can do school in your pajamas. And your parents don’t call your father the principle. And you don’t get punished with a wooden spoon with your name on it when you don’t try hard enough on a test. 

  
And, maybe most importantly, you don’t have to hang out with people who fall under the  _homeschooler_ category. Because you’re not painfully lame and shy and you don’t say things like  _y’all_ and you don’t gather around the deer your father took down to do your lessons in the morning. 

But unfortunately, her sister is painfully extroverted, and when it came about that they just weren’t getting enough time around people that didn’t share their last name, the both of them were dumped into the open 4H group for their age ranges.   
  
Which, for Katniss, turned out to be sewing.  _Sewing!_ While the boys learn sharpshooting and archery, she ends up sitting in relative silence with a handful of other sixteen year old girls and listening as the group leader talks about her grandchild. Sae is always having them do these charity projects, and nothing ever comes of them. This is probably the fifth batch of teddy bears they’ve stuffed and sewed, and she’s not even entirely sure what it is that they’re going to be used for.   
Also, she always ends up poking her finger with the needles. And she’s tried thimbles, but they just make her fingers awkward and clumsy and she hates them and she hates everything about 4H. Especially that stupid pledge.   
  
 _I pledge my head to clearer thinking,  
my heart to greater loyalty,  
my hands to larger service,  
and my healthy to better living,  
for my club, my community, my country, and my world.   
  
_The worst part, probably, is that people actually have it memorized. Katniss opts to read it – when they’re all forced to recite it together – from the poster that hangs on the wall with each of the H words in all caps and a different shade of green. It’s almost enough to make her hate the color. Almost.   
  
  
Prim loves it, though. She asks to go to the camps and activities they offer in the summer, and is always ready to go a good hour and a half before their father comes home to bring them to club at night, shoes tied and hair done.   
Prim is in the horse club. Which Katniss thinks is silly because, for one, they don’t have a horse or even talk to anyone around them that does, and for another, Prim expressed  _no_ interest in horses before she joined the club. But she loves it. By the end of their first month in the club, Prim’s walls are covered with the pictures that they drew in the club.   
  
So, when they announce that it’s time to do a baking competition, Prim begs and begs and begs Katniss to enter a dessert, too.   
  
She doesn’t plan on it, but her father tells her to do it. In that strict, no-questioning, yes-sir dad voice. And she  _really_ doesn’t want to, but she goes through recipes on the internet until she finds one that complies with the no-mixes rule.   
Her cookies are pretty burnt, but she doesn’t care. She’s there for her sister. For her sister, and the messily frosted, lopsided, lumpy cupcakes she’s put together with their mother.   
  
The Everdeen women are definitely not going to do well today.   
  
  
There’s exactly one boy entered in the competition. The other boys that are there seem to be there either to taste the food or to cheer the one boy on. He stands by a loaf of bread, hands in his pockets, and talks with a couple of older blonde boys that look almost identical to him.   
  
You’d hardly be able to tell he was homeschooled if his shirt wasn’t tucked into his jeans.   
  
  
They make their way around the room. Prim gravitates heavily towards the desserts, but Katniss is more interested in the bread. Especially the sort the blonde boy entered. Good, hearty bread.   
  
“Hello!” he says brightly when their family approaches. He’s a rare breed, the friendly homeschooler. Most of the other kids have stuttered out some sort of explanation about what they’ve made, but that’s been the extent of the conversation they’ve had today. “Raisin and nut bread,” he explains, putting a slice on a plate for Katniss. “I hope you like it.”   
  
She does. Her family starts to move again, but she is locked in place, because it would be cheating on this bread if she even though about another baked good while she was eating it.   
  
“Good?” the boy asks, clearly amused. “You know, I debated. I happen to have a great recipe for chocolate cake.”   
  
“Good,” she answers once her mouth isn’t full. Though, it’s hard not to stuff her face again.   
  
“I’m glad I didn’t go with that, though,” he continues, motioning around the room. “My bread doesn’t have much competition here.”   
  
She groans. “Your bread doesn’t have much competition anywhere.”


	16. Popular!Katniss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the anonymous messager that asked: Can you write a fanfiction about nerd!Peeta and popular!Katniss and Katniss flirting and trying to ask him out and he's oblivious to it

Everyone loves Katniss. And, okay, maybe Peeta is on that list, but to be fair, he’s had a crush on her since the first day of school. Since before the most popular boy in school, two years older than them, took her under his wing. Invited her into the group of popular kids.   
  
That completely dashed any chance he had at working their brief, nerve wracking conversations into an actual friendship. He still stares at her, of course. Spends way too much time looking over at her table during lunch, much to his friends’ irritation.   
There’s just something about her. Something that Gale Hawthorne clearly saw. She’s quiet, for the most part, but he’s seen the two of them together a few times. Seen the way her head falls back when she laughs. He wouldn’t mind being the reason for that to happen. But he’s not stupid enough to think that he ever will be.

That doesn’t stop him from liking her, though. And thinking about her. And, okay, maybe, when Cato Martin says something particularly vicious about her, he puts him back in his place. And maybe he ends up with a black eye for his troubles.   
  
He catches Katniss’ eyes on him for the first time when he comes to school with a bruise that didn’t go away even with all the ice he held to it. So, during lunch, he hides away in the school library, nose in a book.   
  
That doesn’t exactly help him.   
  
  
“They said I’d find you in here,” Katniss says, and even though there are tons of seats at the table, she sits so close that her knees press against his. He doesn’t look up at first. “Friendly, too,” she adds.   
  
This earns her a glance up.   
  
“Um, I just … your eye looks like it hurts,” she says.   
  
He shrugs.   
  
“And I know it’s a stupid rumor, but they’re saying it’s because Cato called me a whore?” she asks. “And, I mean, the story is different every time I hear it, but that’s definitely the most common rumor.”   
  
“It was slut,” Peeta answers. “And it’s not like I don’t think you can fight your own battles. I just … I don’t know.”   
  
She reaches a hand over to rest on his forearm. “Do you think you could put your book down?”   
  
He has to talk himself into it, but he ends up closing it and setting it on the table. He’s already read it, anyway.   
  
“Catcher in the Rye,” she says, her approval clear. “I went through a phase where I thought I was the female version of Holden.”   
  
“I think everyone has,” he answers, but she’s managed to make him smile.   
  
“Um, I don’t want to hold you up,” she says, tugging at her braid. “I just wanted to thank you. And … well, to make sure you knew that next time Cato says something shitty, you can just ignore it.”   
  
“But I don’t think you are,” he says. “No one does. He’s just an ass.”   
  
She chuckles. “I won’t fight with you on the  _ass_ thing.”   
  
“You’re not mad at me?” he asks.   
  
“I wanted to be,” she answers. “Talked to my dad about it, though, and he pointed out that it was brave of you to stand up to him. Of course, he’s my dad, so he’s never gonna be  _mad_ when someone sticks up for me when he can’t.”   
  
“You wanted to be mad at me?” he asks. She reaches out and pushes his shoulder lightly. He decides that this shirt is his new favorite.   
  
“I was going to be really mad. I planned on it, ‘till I saw your face.”   
  
“Why?” he asks.   
  
“Because it wasn’t your fight,” she says. “Cato’s just mad because I told him I wouldn’t go to the dance with him.”   
  
“Oh.”   
  
It’s quiet. Her face lights up.   
  
“I have an idea! You know what would  _really_ piss him off?” she asks, and she leans in a little bit, like it’s a secret. She’s so so close to him. “We could go to the dance together. You and I.”   
  
He laughs, because surely she’s joking, but she seems like she’s serious. “You don’t have to ask me out because I got hit in the face, Katniss.”   
  
She leans back against her seat. Crosses her arms over her chest. He should have just said yes. “It’s not like that.”   
  
He doesn’t know why he feels as bold as he does, suddenly. “So you’re telling me you’d talk to me if I  _hadn’t_ been punched? Because I have a feeling that’s bull.”   
  
She scoffs. “Ugh. Do you think you give off any vibe that you can  _stand me_ other than getting punched for me? Because you don’t.”   
  
He laughs. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”   
  
“Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. Forget it.”   
  
She goes to stand up, probably to storm off, but he puts his hand on her arm. “Katniss. What was that supposed to mean?”   
  
“Oh, come on,” she says. “You’re gonna make me say it? Because –  _God,_ this is so stupid – I thought we were friends. And then, I don’t know if it’s because you think you’re all superior for reading comic books or whatever, but you’ve been acting like I’m some kind of a traitor ever since I became friends with Gale.”   
  
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’ve tried so hard to be my friend.”   
  
“You won’t even make eye contact with me!” she argues. “Don’t think I don’t notice that.”   
  
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, not sure what it is that he’s supposed to say. “Maybe … maybe it’s because I  _like_ you. Okay? Did you ever think of that?”   
  
She kisses him. Right there, in the middle of the library. And she’s about as angry as he is. But then she laughs.   
  
“God, that was the angriest confession I’ve ever heard,” she mumbles. 


	17. Everlark House Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a conversation on Annieoakley1's blog a million years ago.

“Now,” the real estate agent says, her heels clicking against the stone as she leads them to the door. “I know that this house is a bit on the small side, but it really is lovely. There’s a kitchen that I think you would really like, Peeta,”   
  
“Oh, I’m happy anywhere with an oven,” he says, smiling.   
  
“This one has two.”   
  
“I like it already.”   
  
“Come on in, then,” the woman says, pulling the door open. He reaches for Katniss’ hand before they go inside, and she takes it, lacing their fingers together.   
  
“So, I was thinking we could start off with the bedrooms.”   
   
They’re led down a hall, a pack of people with cameras behind them. A few of them rush in ahead of them, getting into position so that they can capture every angle of their reaction.   
  
“Oh, wow,” Peeta says, looking around. “This is… what? Two, maybe three times bigger than the ones in District Twelve, right, Katniss?”   
  
“At least,” she says, not able to muster up nearly as much enthusiasm as he has. Maybe if it was just the two of them she would be more impressed, but the only thing she can think about right now is how disgusting the thought of this being a small house is.   
  
“This is just the first one,” the real estate agent chirps. “The other one is completely identical, of course. It was on the list that the president gave me. No favorites, I suppose. It doesn’t matter, though. They’re gorgeous. Both have bathrooms attached, with showers, which I knew you would appreciate, Peeta. Give you a chance to get used to them, finally.”    
  
She tries to listen as she prattles on about how they control the lights, but she feels strange, thinking about the president being so involved in this. Of course he would be. This whole house selecting process is televised. His idea, she’s sure. She squeezes Peeta’s hand, trying to calm down.   
  
They just have to poke their heads into the other one, since it’s the same. Then they continue into the office, which the real estate agent insists would be just  _perfect_ for Katniss’ designing. There’s another one, for Peeta’s painting, and then two living rooms, as if they would need more than one. They’re left alone with the cameras when she goes off to freshen up in the bathroom. Peeta tucks some of her hair behind her ear.   
  
“Are you okay?”   
  
She thinks about it. Considers lying, saying that she’s fine, just tired, but decides against it. Even if she had it in her, he knows well enough to be able to see through it. She gives him a tiny shake of her head and he wraps his arm around her shoulder, leading her out the front door and into the yard. The camera crew tries to follow them, but he holds his hand up, stopping them.   
  
“We’ll just be a minute. Thank you,” he says, still smiling.   
  
 “Hey,” he says. “We’re almost done. Right? We’ll just finish up here, go back to the training center, get something to eat, and then we can go to bed.”   
  
She nods, swallowing hard. She knows exactly what he means. This isn’t the time to break. She has to wait. He kisses her on the forehead, and when they turn back towards the house, she sees that all of the cameras did come out onto the porch and are filming them. She has to force herself not to sigh. He wraps his arm around her again, pulling her in close.   
  
They finish the tour this way. He seems interested by all of the shiny metal appliances that sit on the counter in the kitchen, asking questions and listening intently when they’re answered.   
  
“What do you think?” the real estate agent asks.   
  
“Katniss?” he prompts.   
  
“I like the bedrooms,” she says, because she can’t remember much more than a blur of rooms after those anyway.   
  
He nods. “Well, I do like the kitchen. I think I can see myself making breakfast in here. Some bread, maybe some cake. I don’t know. We’ll see, right?”   
  
The agent nods and they’re filmed all the way back to the car.   


	18. Victor!Katniss and Kicked Out!Peeta (May become a WIP...)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompt: older victor!katniss takes in kicked out!peeta who's crushing on her badly :P ?

He’s not hard to sneak up on. Probably because he doesn’t belong in the woods. He never would, not in a thousand years, with that blonde hair. Still, she just observes him for a little while. Until she sees the berries that he’s trying to pick.   
  
“That’s nightlock,” she says, and he startles at the sound of her voice. “You’d be dead in a minute.”   
  
He scrambles to his feet, looking for the life of him like a kid that got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. His eyes grow impossibly wide at the sight of her, which only brings her attention the blackened state of the left one. It doesn’t help him look much older than he was when they still went to school together. That’s what it takes for her to recognize him.  _Peeta Mellark._ “I didn’t know,” he says.   
  
She’s not sure what drives her to continue explaining, but she does. “You’d be an idiot to pick them if you did. They’ll kill you before they reach your stomach.”   
  
“I, um, I … thank you,” he stammers, reaching out as if to shake her hand and then thinking better of it. “Really.”   
  
“What are you doing out here?” she asks, sounding much more accusatory than she means to. But he looks so much skinnier than he should, being a baker’s kid. She’s never seen a merchant in such bad shape.   
  
He swallows hard. There’s that guilty look again. “I was looking for food.”   
  
“Obviously. Why?”   
  
He squeezes his eyes shut. Like this is hard for him. “They won’t give me a job. At the mines, I mean.”   
  
She frowns. “Why do you  _want_ one?”   
  
“Well, no one else is exactly lining up to employ me. My mother made sure of that before she kicked me out.”   
  
“Come on,” she says, jerking her head back in the general direction she’s going to be headed. “You need to eat.”   
  
She’s glad she doesn’t  _have_ to hunt, exactly, because he’s successfully derailed her plans. “You don’t have to –”   
  
“What? I’m supposed to leave you out here to kill yourself?” she asks, not even glancing over her shoulder at him. He’s following. She can tell by how loudly he’s walking. There’s another reason he doesn’t belong out here. “No, thank you.”   
  
They don’t say anything else. She leads him through the woods and to the meadow near the Victor’s Village.   
  
“Am I supposed to be here?” he asks nervously, glancing around. She rolls her eyes.   
  
“Were you supposed to be in the woods? They won’t bother you as long as you’re with me.”   
  
He’s a little amazed by her house. She can tell. He just stands in the entryway, staring. “It’s just you?”   
  
“And my mother, but she’s never here. So basically,” she agrees. Prim moved out earlier, in the spring, after she toasted with some merchant boy. She’s living above the apothecary. That’s where her mother spends most of her days and nights. “You need something for those bruises?” she asks.   
  
He flushes. It looks like he’s going to protest, but then he thinks better of it. “They’re old. Should fade soon.”   
  
She nods and heads for the icebox, pulling out practically everything she can find. There’s no shortage of meat in this house. He just stands and watches, dumbfounded, while she heats it up. But it’s not like she’s going to let  _him_ of all people starve to death.   
  
Not when she owes him so much.   
  
“Shit,” she grumbles, pulling one of the dishes out of the oven. “Burned it.”   
  
“I don’t mind!” he says, all too quickly. “I mean, it smells great. I’d be happy to eat it.”   
  
Well, that’s not exactly unfamiliar. “Silverware’s in the first drawer by the sink,” she announces. “Plates are in the cabinet above. I’m gonna try to  _not_ burn the rest.”   
  
He brings two of everything to the little table in the kitchen. She thinks that the casserole looks horrible, with how charred it is, but he has his plate cleared quickly. She pretends not to notice.   
  
“How long?” she asks, pretending like she’s particularly interested in the squirrels she’s been frying up.   
  
“Um, few days,” he says. “Almost a week now, actually. But the Cartwrights let me stay with them for a day or two, there. My mother is usually over it by now.”   
  
“There’s a usually? She’s put you out before?”   
  
He laughs drily. “Once or twice. The Cartwrights would let me stay at their house those times, but … well, no one’s exactly lining up to let me stay with them now.”   
  
“Stay here,” she says.   
  
“Oh, no, I couldn’t.”   
  
“Where have you been staying?”   
  
“Um, just, you know,” he says. “Spent a couple nights out by the meadow.”   
  
“Stay here,” she says again, more insistent this time.   
  
“Why?”   
  
“They’ll catch you if you keep sleeping outside,” she says. “They have to at least pretend they care if we break curfew.”   
  
“No. Why do you  _care_?” he asks, voice quiet, tremulous. “Why do you care if I get caught or – or if eat nightlock? Or if I starve to death? I mean, you haven’t ever said two words to me, and now you’re … what? Inviting me in? Feeding me? I don’t … I just don’t understand.”   
  
“You didn’t let me starve.”   
  
It’s quiet for a long moment while what she’s saying sinks in. “When we were kids?” he asks. “That’s not the same –”  
   
“Yes, it is,” she says, her voice rising. “This is  _exactly_ the same thing. And I need you to sit down, shut up, and eat. ‘Cause I’m not gonna let you die.”   
  
“Katniss –”   
  
“I’m not going to do that,” she insists.   
  
“Why not?”   
  
She doesn’t answer. He sighs.   
  
“My father said he’ll let me know when she cools off, but … she hasn’t, apparently.”   
  
“You can bake for me,” she decides, bringing more food over. “If you want. I’ll hire you. Room and board included.”   
  
She thinks he’s going to ask why, but he doesn’t. “She’s telling everyone I stole from her,” he says instead. “From the bakery, actually. Which, I  _wouldn’t_. I would  _never_  … but I guess I talked back when I told her that. And she told me not to come back.”   
  
“I know you wouldn’t,” she says. “You love the bakery. And anyone who can’t see that is an idiot.”   
  
“They’ll think the same thing about you, if you hire me,” he warns.   
  
“Peeta, seriously?” she asks. “Have I ever seemed like I give a shit what anyone thinks?”


	19. Victor!Peeta (and Muttation!Katniss)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was originally going to be a submission for PIP, but I backed out when I got a better idea. :)

  
Every district has a Katniss. Of course, they don’t all go by that name. Every child is given a name that’s been carefully selected to be memorable and yet common enough that no one will question it.   
  
Luster. Astor. Robin. A handful of others who don’t matter nearly as much as Katniss Everdeen. All born from loyal citizens. The children of men and women brave enough to give up the luxury of the Capitol for however long it would take to put down roots in the district they were assigned to. And to have children, but to also complete all of the necessary injections to turn the child into a living surveillance device.   
  


The people of Panem saw something wrong with birds that repeated what they said. But no one could be too suspicious of a girl in a red plaid dress. Not before they were given a reason to be, of course. And when the Capitol had no choice but to take control of the children to calm a potential dissent, the suspicion didn’t last long. Neither did the offender’s life.

They have other uses, too. They can explode on command from the Capitol. But it’s a last resort, of course. The process is far too complex to be repeated more often than it absolutely has to.

  
  
Not that Katniss knows, of course. There are plenty of things that Katniss doesn’t know. About herself, mostly. Or about her father. She doesn’t know half of the things she should know. Doesn’t know what it is that compels her to approach Peeta Mellark when he gets home after the Games and ask if she was the girl he talked about in the interviews. Or to kiss him when he nodded shyly.   
  
She doesn’t even know what it is that’s different about her. Doesn’t know what it is that compels her to go through her boyfriend’s drawers when he leaves her alone in his bedroom in the Victor’s Village.

 

Just that she does it. And climbs back into his bed by the time he’s out of the shower. And smiles up at him when he joins her under the covers and says that she was having weird dreams.   
  
She was a special case, though. A Capitol soldier who thought she was some sort of a rebel. Sneaking under the fence. Poaching in the Capitol’s woods. Trading in a place called the Hob. 

The President wanted her eliminated immediately, but the others had grown fond of the girl, and pleaded for them to keep her around. Said that it was their best shot at monitoring rebel activity if they could have eyes and ears inside of the black market almost daily. The argument worked. Katniss was allowed to live. But she wasn’t supposed to go through with volunteering for the long since executed Mr. Everdeen’s second daughter. They did all they could, but the girl was too strong. Too opposed to their suggestions. All they could do was watch, helpless, while Katniss sat in the bed on the train and wept and refused to tell her boyfriend-turned-mentor about the war inside her head. 

She was a failure. An imperfect product of a perfect plan. And there was nothing President Snow hated more than imperfection. So he used her for every piece of information he could. Watched her conversations with the boy she had pretended to love. Sent extra Peacekeepers to the hob, since he knew exactly where it was.

  
  


But Katniss never came so much in handy as she did when they needed the boy on their side. Johanna Mason had cut the sensor out of her arm in the arena, but they had seventeen years worth of footage to use. To prove that the girl wasn’t who he thought she was.

 

She wasn’t who she thought she was, either. But Peeta didn’t need to know that.


	20. Know It All!Peeta

They used to call him a _know it all._  
  
Back in school, when that was about the worst anyone could get away with, as far as name-calling goes. And it didseem to take the wind out of his sails, at least a little bit. He stopped trying to offer his friends advice. Stopped raising in his hand in class unless he was absolutely positive that his answer was the right one. She sat behind him, and sometimes if she leaned forward and sat up very straight, she would see him write down the correct answer but not say it out loud.   
  
He’s on the wrestling team. And the football team. And she’s seen him playing soccer around the neighborhood. He’s a jock now. And she figures that the things that used to matter to him — like the paintings he would do in Art, so much better than hers — just don’t anymore.   
  
But she learns better when, in their freshman year of high school, she does so poorly in Science that she’s assigned an honor roll student as her tutor, and Peeta is the one sitting in the library, waiting to meet her. She slides in across from him, and he refuses to meet her eye.   
  
“Guess my double life has gotta come to an end eventually,” he jokes. “Let’s talk about mitochondria.”   
  
She scowls. “I already know about mitochondria. But I missed a test because I had to take my sister to the doctor, and -”   
  
“It’s fine,” he says. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. How about this, you tell me what you’ve been having trouble with, and we’ll start there.”   
  
  
She actually ends up liking Peeta. More than she intends to. He does these little doodles in the margins of his notebooks. Shooting stars and rocket ships, and the way he smiles at her when she answers a question right is so sweet, with such an unexpected little hint of shyness that she can’t help but to want to get the right more often. 


	21. Sunburnt!Everlark (role reversal)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ohmyjoshiferr asked for everlark getting super sun burnt at the beach :)

  
It’s the first time she sees him shirtless, save for when she bathed him in the river and washed his clothes. That didn’t count. But this does. Peeta, in a bathing suit, standing at the shore, grinning down at the water washing over his feet – real and prosthetic. Peeta, who has gained back not only the weight he lost in the arena but at least a little bit  _more_ of the muscle.   
  
Peeta, stocky, and allowed to keep the fine golden hair that covers his chest and legs, looking over his shoulder at her, reaching his hand out for her, and lacing their fingers together when she places her palm in his.   
  
“It’s gorgeous,” he says.   
  
“I’ll show you my lake. In Twelve,” she offers, her voice quiet. “It’s not quite as magnificent, but it’s nice.”   
  
  
“That’s where you learned to swim?” he asks. She nods. “Wonder if it’s too late to get some lessons.”   
  
“Well, we have to leave soon,” she says, but takes a couple of steps further into the water. She’s in this two piece swimming suit that Cinna made. Red and shimmery and throwing light away from her body with sequins and sparkles. And she was much too proud of the way it made Peeta  _look_ at her when she peeled the covering off to feel ashamed of her body for being on display like that.   
  
  
She notices how pink his cheeks are when they wake up from their nap. Or, well, more red than pink. And it’s like that all the way to his forehead. Down his neck, across his chest where it disappears under the white shirt he’s wearing. He hisses when she trails her finger along his arm.   
  
“Sunburn,” she says. “I’ll go ask Effie if she has something for it.”   
  
“Kay,” he says. “Am I supposed to be so tired?”   
  
“Dunno. I don’t get sunburned.”   
  
“Oh. Right. Forgot how perfectly engineered you are,” he quips, moving to sling an arm over his eyes and then groaning, like the movement itself hurt.  _Perfect. Perfectly engineered._ She grins all the way to Effie’s compartment.   
  
  
It’s aloe vera, and it’s from a squeeze bottle. It’s thick and green and slimy and it makes Peeta sigh in relief when she starts to spread it across his back.   
  
“It’s good?” she asks, leaning forward to cover more ground.   
  
“Good,” he agrees. “Feels great. What’d you say that was?”   
  
“Aloe,” she answers. “My mother uses something like it.”   
  
“You’re pretty good at this healing stuff,” he mutters. She keeps going, even though he’s  _clearly_ not going to stop her. By the time his arms and back is covered, she’s used almost half a bottle, and there’s too much left in her hands, so she orders him to stand up and then runs her hands up and down his chest, using the rest of it and watching as his expression shifts into one of utter contentment.   
  
“Hey, Katniss?” he asks when she comes out after washing her hands.   
  
“Yeah?” she asks.   
  
“Thanks,” he murmurs. When he kisses her, it’s the first time he’s shown her any affection away from the cameras. 


	22. Peeta Brings Home A Weird Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rnellark-everdeen requested: WRITE PEETA BRINGING HOME A REALLY WEIRD ANIMAL AND KATNISS IS CONFUSED BUT ALSO KINDA INTRIGUED ABOUT IT <3

Peeta comes home with a PetCo box in one hand, and a bag and a box that’s clearly for a cage in the other.   
  
She recognizes that kind of box. She worked at a rinky dink little pet shop her junior year of high school. “Peeta …” she says, voice low in warning. But the damage is done, and he’s giving her this shy little smile, like he knows that he’s done something she’ll hate.   
  
“Wait until you see them.”   
  
“Plural?” she asks. “Peeta. This is the sort of thing you’re supposed to talk to your roommate about.”   
  
“I hate it when you call me you roommate,” he says, setting the box down on the table and taking the cage out so he can start assembling it. “It’s so stuffy. Like we’re not dating.”   
  
“We might not be if you don’t tell me what the hell you’ve brought into our house.”   
  
  
“See how much better that sounds? Our house?” he asks. “They’re sugar gliders. You’re gonna love them.”   
  
“Rodents,” she says. “They’re rodents. Glorified rats, Peeta.”   
  
“You’re gonna love them,” he says again. “You can even name them.”   
  
“Well, that changes everything,” she says drily.   
  
“Okay. I know. I couldn’t help myself, though,” he says. “And I can’t put this cage together, either. Will you help?”   
  
She does, and she even agrees to hold the things while he puts the bedding down. He got three, and when she looks up at him in question, he turns a little pink.   
  
“They were the last ones left. And I was gonna get one, but they told me that they’re happier in groups, and … Well, I didn’t want to leave that last one behind.”   
  
She should be mad. She had intended on making him work to make it up to her, because she’s never been interested in anything smaller than a dog and he knows that. But … “They are sorta cute.”   
  
“Aren’t they?” he asks. “I couldn’t help myself, Katniss. I saw them, and I fell in love. So I thought, you know. Worked out last time.”   
  
“As long as you don’t name one Katniss, I think I can be okay with this.”   
  
“You’ve got a deal,” he grins.


	23. Barefoot and Grinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Based on a picture I reblogged on my Tumblr, of a couple sitting on a porch on their wedding day, the bride's feet in the groom's lap.)

They’re going to be getting married, anyway. They sent the dresses right to her house. It’s almost as if this is what they  _wanted_ Katniss and Peeta to do. And, once the camera crews left, and Prim suggested that Katniss should try the dresses on for Peeta to see, she agreed.   
  
He is over quickly. Probably because he didn’t know what she was planning on doing, based on the black tee shirt he was wearing and the flour dusted on it. “Prim said you needed me?” he asks, sounding nearly panicked.   
  
“Um,” she says. “Just … had an idea. Come inside.”   
  
She leans up on her tiptoes, tells him her idea, and hears his breath stutter at the thought of it.   
  
“Are you sure?” he asks.   
  
“I don’t … they shouldn’t have this,” she says. They only really started becoming serious about their relationship when they were mentoring for the Quell two years ago. But there’s nothing stopping her now. She’s already practically living at his house, anyway. And her sister loves the idea. Prim surely won’t be given a ticket to the Capitol for the upcoming wedding.   
  
He kisses her soundly on the lips. “No,” he agrees. “They shouldn’t.”   
  
She brings the box of dresses to his house the next day, and then they double back with a second box, filled with the clothes that she tossed in there. Might as well make it official, she supposes. Her mother and her sister come over and hole up with her in one of the guest rooms, adjusting her hair this way and that until they decide on leaving it down. Peeta told Katniss that he liked it best that way, once.   
  
And then she’s sent down the stairs.   
  
Where Peeta is waiting, wearing a pressed white shirt and tie that she doesn’t even recognize from the victory tour. His eyes widen. As if he wasn’t expecting this, or something. It is a testament to how thoroughly spoiled she has been by the luxury the Capitol has provided them that she prefers this dress to one of her mother’s old merchant ones. If only because of the way Peeta can’t seem to stop staring at her.   
  
“It’s, um,” he struggles. “My brothers are coming. Soon. Like … five minutes?”   
  
“We can wait,” she assures him. He wants privacy, unsurprisingly, and he brings her out to his front porch, where she ungraciously plops down into a white rocking chair.   
  
“You’ll get it dirty!” he says, as if the thought is something truly awful. Maybe it is. Maybe that’s how they’ll get caught for doing this, sending back a dirty dress. He reaches down and gathers up her feet and rests them in his lap, leaning back and looking at her with such a genuinely happy smile that she can’t help but to think about what a good idea this was, giving him a real wedding.    
  
  
He leads her to the kitchen when his brothers arrive, so that they can pick up the raisin nut bread they made the night before. Notices that he’s set kindling for the fire right beside the furnace when they come back in. She can practically hear Effie shrieking at her for kneeling in such an expensive gown, but she doesn’t care. She kneels on the ground beside Peeta and helps him build the fire.   
  
  
There are no words. Not from either of them. Surely, in a few months, when she has to do the majority of this over again, she and Peeta will both be given speeches to recite. But they don’t need them here. Not with the tears welling up in Peeta’s bright blue eyes, or the way her bottom lip trembles when she notices the way he’s looking at her.   
  
“I love you,” she says, finally breaking the silence.   
  
It isn’t the first time she’s said it, but it may as well be the first time he’s heard it. A tear rolls down his cheek, and suddenly, it’s all she can say.   
  
“I love you. I love you.”   
  
“I love you,” he returns, holding the bread to her mouth. “I love you so much.”   
  
She nods. “This would have happened anyway,” she whispers, because she’s been thinking this for months, now, and it seems like the sort of thing he’d like to hear.   
  
She isn’t wrong. That’s how they _really_  get married. Barefoot and grinning


	24. Fender Bender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Everlark meet during a fender bender

She’s having a miserable day. The AC in her car went out again on the way back from dropping Prim off at college, and she  _misses_ Prim and all, but she also really resents her for giving her those puppy dog eyes and asking her to drive the four hours and drop her off at college. Because, really, how could she say no to that? To the chance of saying goodbye?   
  
She should have. Because once she finally gets back into town, and she just wants to stop and pick up the pizza she ordered, but she can’t. Of course, she can’t. Not easily, anyway. She’s just stopping, getting ready to merge back onto the highway, but she must not be fast enough, because some old (and equally crappy) car hits her.   
  
The whole car jerks forward, and she curses loudly. The seatbelt is digging into her throat, but she doesn’t think she has whiplash or anything. She pulls into a gas station parking lot, hoping that the asshole that hit her will have the decency to follow.   
  
He does. She winces at the sound that must be part of her car dragging against the road.   
  
  
“I am  _so sorry_ ,” she hears a deep-ish voice saying. “Are you hurt?”   
  
“My car is,” she says, and he grimaces.   
  
“I saw that. I seriously am sorry. Um, I’ve got my insurance stuff in the car. Just let me make a call.”   
  
She nods, and when they exchange information, his eyes widen.   
  
“Katniss Everdeen,” he reads. “No way. Hey, we went to school together!”   
  
She looks over at him, noticing how familiar those striking blue eyes are, even when he looks as remorseful as he does. “Yeah,” she says. “I guess we did.”   
  
They wait for the cop together. She stares at the back of her car and shakes her head at the damage.   
  
“I, um, I have full coverage,” he says. “They’ll probably give you enough to replace it.”   
  
“I don’t  _want_ to replace it,” she says, irritated. “… it was my father’s.”   
  
“I know a great mechanic,” he offers after a moment. “He’ll be able to fix it right up.”   
  
“I don’t understand why you’re being so friendly,” she says.   
  
“Just … spent years trying to work up the courage to talk to you, back in school,” he admits, frowning. “I don’t want the only reason you notice me to be because I wrecked your car. So, I don’t know. I figure I’ve gotta make it up to you somehow.”   
  
She shakes her head, but then thinks better of it. “You might be able to start by picking up my pizza.”   
  
He laughs. “I’d be happy to.” 


	25. Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on another picture I reblogged on my Tumblr, of a couple laughing and dipping their feet into a lake off of a dock. For thesutterkeely

Prim got to pick where they went on vacation this year. And, of course, being fourteen and wanting so badly to make friends with the other girls her age, she decided she wanted them to spend some time in the posh cabins around the lake in Twelve.   
  
The girls in Town like to pretend that it’s  _camping_ , but it isn’t camping. That much has been obvious ever since Mr. Everdeen started looking up the cabins – they’re not even really cabins. They’re more like condos than anything. Air conditioned and with electricity and a television that’s a good two times bigger than the one they have at home. Their parents warn Prim that the trip will count as her birthday present when she begs. She claims that she doesn’t care. That she’ll give up Christmas gifts, too.

So the trip is planned without Katniss having much say in it. Two weeks on the lake. And she’s a little bit determined to hate it. But that doesn’t work. Because, even if she does hate the way that her sister acts around the other girls – all giggly and unable to talk about anything other than boys – there is something awfully peaceful about the national park.   
It’s almost enough to keep her from regretting deciding to stay at home for college.   
  
When she officially meets Peeta Mellark, it’s during their second night there, when she’s sitting out on the dock watching the fireflies come out during the sunset.   
  
“Hey,” he says. “Mind if I join?”   
  
She does, but she shrugs, and he plops down beside her, feet dangling in the water.   
  
“Haven’t seen you around here.”   
  
“It’s our first year,” she says. “Prim got to pick. Gonna be hard to make her leave.”   
  
He grins. “It’s like a whole different world out here.”   
  
“Yeah,” she agrees. It must be, if Peeta Mellark is talking to her. She’s never been worthy of his attention before, but now that her family has enough money to vacation the same place as his does.   
  
“Been coming here since I was five and I’m still not used to it,” he admits. “Makes me glad I decided on State.”   
  
She laughs. Who would have thought she and Peeta would end up in college together?   
  
  
She doesn’t want to like him. But she can’t help herself. He spends just about every night watching the sunset with her, making her laugh and sharing stories about his brothers, or working at the bakery, or his friends from school. She’s a little bit jealous of him for getting so much more out of school than she did. She had sat with Madge a lot, but she hasn’t spoken to her since graduation.   
  
But it seems a little bit like Peeta is a friend, of some sort. He invites her back to his family’s cabin when he learns that she’s never seen The Godfather.   
  
Only, they don’t end up watching it. She ends up sitting on one end of the couch while he sits on the other one and stammers about the massive crush he’s apparently always had on her. And then, when he asks if he’s just ruined the whole thing, she surges forward and kisses him.   
  
“And me?” she asks. “Have I ruined the whole thing?”   
  
He laughs. “God, no.” 


	26. Football

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: the only two people at a bar rooting for the same football team au Everlark (using the only two football team colors I definitely know....)

She sighs when she pushes the door open. It’s practically a sea of green and yellow. She should have expected that, really. She zips her hoodie up, grateful that the black will hide the blue and green she’s wearing today, out of support. Of all of the places for Plutarch to transfer her to, did he  _have_ to pick Wisconsin?   
  
That’s when she sees him. Leaned across a small table, talking animatedly with some couple, both wearing Green Bay jerseys. He’s actually pretty adorable from a combination of blond curls, dimples, and a slightly too big Seahawks jersey.   
  
"No!" he’s saying. "You’re wrong. We can take it."   
  
The redhead at the table with him shakes his head. “One superbowl doesn’t prove a thing, Mellark. If we’re going by that logic, then we can definitely take you.”   
  
She may end up standing a little closer to that table than she should when she gets her beer. But there aren’t a lot of seats at the bar, and she just wants to see how the game ends so she can go home and get unpacked so she can watch the next game in the comfort of her own apartment. So she’s not exactly willing to sit between two sweaty Packers fans. But it ends up paying off.   
  
"What do you think?" the redhead asks. "Who’s gonna take it?"  
  
She hesitates. Can they, like, kick you out of Wisconsin for not being willing to die for the Packers? The blond is watching her, though, and he seems pretty at home here. She hesitates and then unzips her hoodie. The blond laughs out loud.   
  
"You here alone?" the blond asks. "Wanna watch it with us?"   
  
"They’re not always this obnoxious about it," the woman adds. "But Peeta here insists on picking a fight every time we watch."   
  
"Let me guess," she says, not sure why she’s suddenly so brave about this. "You want an ally?"   
  
"God, yes," he says, grinning when she climbs up onto the tall stool beside him.


	27. Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thesutterkeely requested this one. :)

  
She never would have guessed that  _Peeta Mellark_ , of all people, would have panic attacks.   
  
She’s not sure why it comes as such a surprise to her. Maybe just because he always seemed so relaxed and carefree during school. But sure enough, when she leaves to use the bathroom during Intro To Psych, she passes Peeta in the long corridor.   
  
He’s sitting against the wall. At first she thinks, maybe, that he’s charging his phone. But he’s not. His phone is on the floor beside him, unattached to anything, and his head is in his hands.   
  
“Peeta?” she asks.   
  
She didn’t think he’d be going to State. Last she heard, he and his girlfriend broke up because they were both going across the country for college.   
  
He looks up at her and gives her an exhausted smile. “Hey, Katniss,” he says.   
  
“You okay?” she asks.   
  
“I … yeah. I’m fine,” he says, dragging his hand through his hair. She goes to leave, but he scrambles to his feet and races to catch up with her. “Do you wanna, maybe, go get some coffee or something, sometime?”   
  
She does. Very badly. And there’s nothing to stop her, so she tells him yes. It isn’t until they’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months that they start to talk about her mother, and he tells her about the anxiety that runs in his family. Says that he’s probably been getting the worst of it.   
  
“You could call me,” she offers shyly.   
  
The next time he has a panic attack, he does. She’s over to his dorm as quickly as she can be, and they sit on the floor outside his door – thanks to Coriolanus’ strict policies – and she plays with his hair until his breathing evens out.  


	28. Victor!Katniss (Rye was her District Partner)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt Victor!katniss running into Peeta whom brother was her fellow tribute ? thanx btw :)

It’s cruel, really, that was reaped the same year as a boy with two almost identical brothers. That she has to see Rye Mellark not only in the worst of her nightmares but also in his family every time she risks a trip to the bakery.   
  
Something that she does far more often than she should. But it feels like it’s what she needs to do. She needs to trade with Mr. Mellark. She needs to buy as much bread as her family can eat. Her mother says – in quiet conversations that she’s fairly certain she’s not supposed to hear – that it’s because she’s  _punishing herself._ But it’s not that, exactly. She won during a quell year. She has twice as much wealth as she should would have if she had won just a year before or a year later. And what did the Mellark family get?   
  
A dead son. That’s what the Mellark family got.   
  
  
She has to steel herself the first time that only one of the brothers is out front, because he’s looking down at the counter, washing it off, and from a distance, he looks so much like Rye that she has to hold her breath. That she waits for the mutts to come out. Expects this to be another cruel part of the games.   
  
He looks up and swallows hard. “Hey, Katniss,” Peeta says quietly. Rye mentioned in his interview – in a bid to get sponsors, she’s becoming more and more sure – that his little brother was in  _love_ with her. “The usual?”   
  
She nods.   
  
“Your tour is coming up soon, right?” he asks. He can’t even look at her.   
  
“Um, yeah,” she says. “Only a couple more days. Look, Peeta, I’m sorry.”   
  
He looks up at her and shakes his head. “No. No, don’t apologize. That just … don’t. He was never going to come home.”   
  
“Don’t say that.”   
  
He raises his eyebrows. “Look, Katniss, I think I was a  _little_ more invested in it than you were, and I can say that. Hell, the last thing our mother said was –”   
  
“I heard,” she interrupts. “He told me. But I don’t want –” her voice cracks. She shakes her head. Peeta’s hand comes to rest on top of hers, and it’s so absurd,  _him_ comforting  _her_. “I’m just sorry.”   
  
“I know,” he says. “I mean, you spend half your earnings here every month, Katniss. We know. But … it was always going to be you. Ever since you volunteered. Rye knew that.”   
  
A tear slides down her cheek. She reaches up to wipe it away, hoping he doesn’t notice. He does. “He told me I owed you a date, you know, if I made it back.”   
  
Peeta gives her a funny little broken laugh. “Well, you don’t owe me a thing. But that sounds like him.”   
  
“After my tour,” she decides. “Even if all we do is cry. I’ll make you dinner.”   
  
He swallows hard. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll bring the bread.” 


	29. Victor!Katniss (Rye was her District Partner) part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outofthemarr requested:   
> A drabble of your drabble please? This was the prompt: Victor!katniss running into Peeta whom brother was her fellow tribute. Mine is: they get to know each and Katniss falls for Peeta but she wants to protect him more! Thank you soooo much! :)

All of this would be so much easier if she didn’t like Peeta. Or if Rye hadn’t been so likable. Or if she had just died in that damn arena and not had to spend the rest of her life trying to think her way out. Because she feels so guilty now, every single time Peeta smiles at her, and every single time she notices the little dimples in his cheeks.   
  
But she does like Peeta. And Rye had been far too kind to her. And she  _did_ make it out of the arena. On some level, that should probably mean that she has the right to enjoy her life. But it doesn’t.   
  
  
Haymitch saw him leave the Victor’s Village after they had dinner together and didn’t believe her, exactly, when she said it was platonic.   
  
“Look, sweetheart, I’ve been where you are. And this needs to stop.”   
  
“I don’t think –”   
  
“You don’t want to give him anything to hurt you with,” Haymitch interrupted, and she had never spent all that much time thinking about why he spent so much time alone, but suddenly it made sense. “My advice is you back away now. Forget about the kid. I don’t know if you’re trying to torture yourself, since he looks just like his brother, or what. But it has to stop.”   
  
She nodded. She understood. But that didn’t make it any easier.   
  
  
Especially not because Peeta had told her at dinner that he wants to be her friend. That he always has and that she’s always just intimidated him too much. He had managed to make her laugh more than once during the meal, but especially  when he said that she was somehow  _less_ intimidating as a Victor.   
  
And she did try to ignore Haymitch. But she’s always been far too stubborn for her own good, and even if, somewhere, deep down inside, she understood what he was saying, she didn’t  _like_ it. So she ignored it. She leaned across the countertop at Mellark Bakery and listened while Peeta talked about everything she was missing at school. Started to see  _Peeta_ in his face rather than Rye. Started to notice the way his eyebrows moved when he talked, and the way his voice was a little higher than his brother’s was.   
  
   
“You’re so pretty,” he says one day, reaching out to tuck some of her hair back into her braid. She flushes, but doesn’t exactly pull away.   
  
She likes him a lot. What it takes for to realize how deep she’s in it is for him to make an appearance in one of her nightmares. Haymitch’s warning comes back full force, and she feels sick. So she tries to keep him at arm’s length after that. Sends Prim to get the bread. Ignores her when she says that Peeta was asking about her.   
  
 _This is what’s best_ , she thinks.  _This is how I’m going to protect him_.   
  
  
It doesn’t work. The card is read for the Quarter Quell, and the district is in uproar over the fact that it will be siblings and relatives of previous tributes in the reaping ball and in the arena, and she feels sick all over again. 


	30. Coke Bottle AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thesutterkeely requested the "finding each other's names on a coke bottle" AU from a list I reblogged. :)

Yeah. Okay. Maybe she’s a  _little_ jealous of Prim’s ability to find her name on everything they ever put anyone’s names on.  _Primrose_ keychains and snowglobes and Christmas tree ornaments. She can deal with that. But  _Share a Coke with Primrose?_ Seriously? Prim doesn’t like Coke half as much as Katniss. And she may or may not go through all the little bottles in the minifridge. Johanna found hers.   
  
“I’m just –  _ugh_ ,” Katniss says, setting the one she grabbed at random down on the belt. She sighs when she sees the name. She couldn’t even find one of the ones that say  _friends_ for all the other poor saps with the weird names. “Share a coke with  _Peeta_. That’s not even a name!”   
  
“More of a name than Katniss, apparently,” Johanna says. Katniss scowls.   
  
“ _Peeta_ , though?  _Peeta?_ Not –”   
  
“Yes?” a voice comes from behind her, and she jumps. Johanna covers her mouth, but it doesn’t do much to hide her laugh. “Sorry. I wasn’t eavesdropping. Or, at least, I was trying not to,” the guy in line behind them says. His ears are turning pink. “I just heard my name –  _thought_ I heard my name.”   
  
“Oh. No. I was saying  _Peeta_.”   
  
He nods, as if she’s missing something. “That’s me.”   
  
Ugh. Friendly, reasonably attractive strangers get their name on Coke bottles too. Just not her.   
  
“Here,” she says, grabbing the bottle before it can make it to the scanner. “You need this more than me, then.”   
  
“Share a coke with Peeta,” he reads, grinning. “Cool! I was looking all over the place. You couldn’t find yours? Or is it for your boyfriend?”   
  
She’s sure she’s blushing. “It’s for me. I couldn’t find mine. I’ll just grab another.”   
  
“Katniss, right?” he asks, glancing down at the nametag she forgot to unpin from her shirt at the end of her shift. “Come with me. I found one while I was looking. I remembered thinking it was an interesting name.”   
  
Johanna’s eyebrows flick up, but Katniss follows the boy –  _Peeta­_ – to the other aisle instead. She’s getting her damn coke bottle. He buys it for her before she can protest and shyly – so shyly – asks if she’d maybe wanna go look for more sometime. She’s actually a little surprised when she programs her number into his phone. 


	31. Musician!Katniss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: prompt: Katniss plays the guitar in a subway station and Peeta likes to go to listen to her. Have a nice day! :)

The guitar was her father’s, once. But he didn’t teach her how to play. He never really taught her much of anything. To hear her mother tell it, other than mailing Christmas presents and child support checks, he wasn’t too much of a fixture in her life.   
  
He was, though. Of course, her mother couldn’t be expected to know that. She was raising her younger sister and trying the whole  _marriage_ thing out again with some blond haired man that Katniss didn’t entirely hate but didn’t like either. And Katniss holed herself up in her room with her father’s old guitar and read instruction books from the library, trying to figure out how to recreate the guitar in her favorite songs on his albums.   
  
He never heard her play. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted him to, anyway. Because even if it had something to do with her father, this was  _hers_. Just like the guitar case she leaves open in front of her. And the tips she earns. _Hers._ This is  _hers_.   
  
  
But the thing about music that she loves the most is that isn’t just hers. She’s started gathering a crowd. Like the dark haired woman and her children, who always stop in the afternoon and watch her for a moment before dropping handfuls of change into the case. She can tell that it’s all that they have to spare, and that’s somehow the best tip she can really get.   
  
There’s also this blond guy that stops every evening. He leaves his tips in between songs, as if he doesn’t want to disturb her.   
  
“Do you take requests?” he asks one afternoon.   
  
“If I know it,” she says, and she’s a little surprised when the song he asks for is one of her father’s songs, but she’s happy to oblige. It’s not like she doesn’t know the lyrics. She gets a twenty that night, and she knows, judging by the suit he always wears, that it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. But it is. What is he doing taking the subway if he was twenty bucks to spare for a song?   
  
“You ever wanna do this professionally?” he asks a few days – and song requests – later. She looks at him, eyes sort of wide, and he drops a business card in with his tip.   
  
 _Peeta Mellark_  
Mockingjay Music Records   
[PM@MMR.Net](mailto:PM@MMR.Net)   
  
There’s a phone number, too. She may or may not pack up early that night. 


	32. TFIOS!Everlark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous requested: can you write a drabble where Peeta is Gus and Katniss is Hazel, pretty please

Delly really wasn’t exaggerating when she complained about support group. It hasn’t even started yet, and Peeta can tell that it’s going to be terrible. But they’ve been friends for as long as he can remember, and she  _did_ sort of guilt him into it.   
  
Not that it took much. Looking at it honestly, her life was pretty shitty. He can say this, because he’s her best friend, and she refuses to say it for herself. Delly Cartwright is optimistic, almost to a fault. Like about this support group. She’s been talking about it for a while, saying that it  _has its problems_ but that  _it really helps_.   
  
Of course, that’s what she says about her boyfriend, too. He drinks a little Dixie cup with pink lemonade and brings one back for Delly, but it’s mostly just to minimize the amount of time he has to spend in the preschool sized plastic chairs.   
  
  
The support group meets weekly, he’s told. He’s brought Delly to enough of them to know, but this is the first time she’s managed to convince him to go in with her. Plutarch Heavensbee –  _Heavens_ bee, of course he’s in the ministry. She tries to get Delly to laugh with him, but she’s focused on the miserable life story he’s telling.   
  
Testicular cancer. They thought he was going to die, but he didn’t. He knows he should be paying attention, but he can’t. A girl came in late and sat on the other side of Delly during the serenity prayer, and he kinda can’t stop looking at her. Her hair is too short to be in a braid, really, but hell if she didn’t try. When she looks around, he sees all of the pins in her hair, practically begging it to stay together. And she’s wearing a shirt with some band on it that he doesn’t recognize. He finds himself watching her for a little bit longer than he should. Especially with the way she looks over at Delly every now and then, sighing almost imperceptibly.   
  
“Delly, perhaps you’d like to go first today. I know you’re facing a challenging time,” Plutarch says.   
  
“Yeah,” Delly says. “I’m Delly. I’m seventeen. And it’s looking like I have to get surgery in a couple weeks, after which I’ll be blind. Not to complain or anything, because I know a lot of us have it worse, but yeah, I mean, being blind does sort of suck. My boyfriend helps, though. And friends like Peeta,” she nods towards him. “So, yeah.” She looks down at her hands. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”   
  
“We’re here for you, Delly,” Plutarch says. “Let her hear it, guys.”   
  
Then, in a monotone that wasn’t entirely un-creepy, the rest of the group echoed it. “We’re here for you, Delly.”   
  
A girl named Rue was next. She had leukemia. She’d always had leukemia. She was okay.   
  
There were five others before they got to him, and he felt a little guilty for being here. “My name is Peeta Mellark. I’m seventeen. I had a little touch of osteosarcoma a year and a half ago, but I’m jujst here today and Isaac’s request.”   
  
“And how are you feeling?” asks Plutarch. Right. He knew he was missing something.   
  
“I’m grand.” He smiled with just a corner of his mouth. Heard Delly sigh at him. “I’m on a roller coaster that only goes up, my friend.”   
  
“I’m Katniss,” the girl said when it was her turn. “I’m sixteen. Thyroid with mets in my lungs. I’m okay.”   
  
Neither of them spoke again until he was called out. Presumably for not paying attention.   
  
“Peeta. Maybe you’d like to share your fears with the group.”   
  
“My fears?” he asks.   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“I fear oblivion.”   
  
“You do?” he asks. Plutarch seems a little lost. “Would, uh, would anyone like to speak to that?”   
  
The girl –  _Katniss_ – raises her hand about half way. Delly looked surprised, but not as surprised as Plutarch, who seems absolutely delighted to see her hand raised.   
  
She loves over at him. His eyes were already trained on her. Hell, they have been practically this whole time. Whatever.   
  
“There will come a time,” she begins, “when all of us are dead. All of us. No one will be around to remember that anyone ever existed or ever did anything. Let alone  _you_.”   
  
It’s quiet for a moment, and he thinks that she’s giving up, but then she huffs and continues.   
  
“No one’s gonna survive forever. Even if we do survive the collapse of the sun. And if that  _worries_ you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does.”   
  
It’s quiet for a long moment. He can’t help himself from smiling. “Goddamn,” he says quietly. “Aren’t you something else.”  


	33. Backpack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous requested "Everlark - smacked someone in the face with your backpack AU"

She scans the crowd for a moment, trying to find him. It’s been ages since she’s seen her cousin, and She had hoped that she could convince Prim to come with her, but she couldn’t. Prim was too busy with the younger cousins when it came time to leave, working on some arts and crafts project.     
  
Finally, she spots him. Or, rather, he spots her, and lifts a hand to wave at her. She hurries towards him. “Hey, Catnip!” he says. She rolls her eyes at the nickname and bends down to pick his backpack up off of the ground. “Mom’s got you on pickup duty already? That’s rough.”   
  
“You guys are –?” whatever the guy was going to say is forgotten when he groans. She nearly drops the backpack when she realizes that she just hit this blond, reasonably attractive stranger in the face with the orange backpack when she turned to look at him. Gale sort of laughs before he can help himself, and, thankfully, she keeps a hold of the strap this time when she whips around to glare at him. Things only get worse when she notices the straps around Gale’s shoulders.   
  
 _Shit_.   
  
“I am  _so_ sorry,” she says. “You startled me. I just … I saw Gale, and …”   
  
“No, no, it’s fine,” the blond says, rubbing the spot on his jaw, no doubt where she hit him. “My bad, really, for packing so heavily.”   
  
She’s blushing, she’s sure.   
  
“Well, now that the two of you have met,” Gale says. “Katniss, this is my friend Peeta. He’s gonna be staying with us for the break.”   
  
Great. “Um, I’ll just carry this for you, I guess,” she says, but he shakes his head.   
  
“I can handle it.” She goes to argue, and  _Peeta_ smiles. “Please. It’s sort of a deadly weapon in your hands.”   
  
“You don’t wanna see her with a bow, man,” Gale says. “Where’d you park?”   
  
She leads them to the car, a few steps ahead because she’s mortified and wants to get out of here as quickly as possible.   
  
“So, you two are brother and sister?” she hears Peeta asking.   
  
“Cousins,” Gale says. “But they live with us. So … pretty much.”   
  
“Cool.”   
  
She unlocks the old pickup truck and expects for Gale to climb in beside her, but after a little bit of discussion that she can’t hear, Peeta is the one to get in shotgun. Because of course he is.   
  
“What’d I miss while I was gone?” Gale asks from the backseat.   
  
“Not much,” she says. “Posy started losing teeth. Ugh. The front one is wiggling like crazy and she’s grossing everyone out. Maybe you can tie it to a doorknob while you’re here.”   
  
“Oh, that sounds like it would be much less gross,” Gale says. Peeta coughs to try to cover his laugh.   
  
“You can turn the radio on,” she offers, glancing over at him.   
  
  
  
Hazelle didn’t know that Gale was bringing company, either. Katniss wouldn’t even know that there was a problem if she didn’t know Hazelle as well as she does. Gale’s mother hugs first her son and then Peeta, saying something about how his friends are always welcome and that Katniss will show him to Gale’s room.   
  
They had a guest room, once, but Katniss and Prim already occupied it after their father died. There’s an old futon in one corner, not far from Gale’s bed, and she tries to explain how to work it.   
  
“I know how to use a futon,” he says when she can’t quite figure it out. He actually looks amused. “Thank you, though.”   
  
It’s clear that he wants to be alone. She can hear Gale and Hazelle talking quietly and sort of hides out in the hallway that leads to the kitchen/dining room area.   
  
“His family practically disowned him when he decided to go  _away_ to college, Mom. And I couldn’t just leave him there!”   
  
“I’m not saying you should have. I’m saying that this place is a  _mess_ , and you should have given me a heads up.”   
  
“He won’t mind,” Gale assures her. “It’s much cleaner than our dorm room.”   
  
  
He’s out back that night, sitting on the porch swing she spends most of her nights on. She feels bad for disturbing him for a moment, but this  _is_ her thinking spot.   
  
“I didn’t realize you guys still had fireflies down here,” he says when she drops onto the seat beside him.   
  
She rolls her eyes. “Oh. So you’re a yankee? And here I was thinking I could trust Gale’s judgment.”   
  
He laughs. “I wasn’t all that thrilled, rooming with a redneck. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to initiate me, this summer. Either that, or he just wants to get a laugh out of seeing me here.”   
  
“You think he wants to see you with a farmer’s tan?” she asks, and he shudders at the thought of it.   
  
“So, you guys grew up together?” he asks.   
  
“No.”   
  
She doesn’t leave it open for much discussion. He doesn’t mind. “You just seem close, is all,” he says. “Seems nice.”   
  
“You don’t have cousins?” she asks.   
  
“Nah. My parents were both only children. I barely got the chance to know my brothers before they moved out.”   
  
“You’re the baby?”   
  
He nods.   
  
“So, Gale says you go to State?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Cool,” he says. “I considered it, back home, but then I realized I wanted to be as far away as possible.”   
  
It isn’t much longer before he heads inside. They continue this way for the next week or so, avoiding each other during the day and then sitting together at night.   
  
“I’m happy to be here, I am. But … seeing the Hawthornes makes me insanely jealous,” he admits, glancing over at her. “Is that weird?”   
  
“No,” she says. “I feel the same way.”   
  
“But you live here,” he says, as if he doesn’t understand.   
  
“My mother … when my father died, my mother didn’t take it as well as Hazelle took it when her husband died,” she admits quietly. “It was the same accident. But she just didn’t bounce back. So we ended up here. And it’s great, really. But …”   
  
“No, I know what you’re saying,” he says, reaching over and resting his hand on top of hers.   
  
The next night, she leans in to kiss him. Their lips have only just touched when the floodlights turn on, lighting the yard up and making him jump away from her, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be.  _Is he?_  She wonders. It’s not exactly a secret, but she’s not sure anyone knows about it. And it suits her just fine, here in a house where everyone has to share everything, to have one thing she can keep for herself.   
  
“It’s on a motion sensor,” she says. “Something just tripped it, I guess. It’s fine.”   
  
“You sure?” he asks. She nods, and thinks that maybe if she knew how  _nice_ it would be to kiss a boy like this, she would have gone off to school with Gale when her acceptance letter came in after all. 


	34. Hugged Wrong Person From Behind AU

There are a group of guys huddled around, talking and laughing. No doubt the ones that joined the Midlife Crisis Softball League with her father. She grins and breaks out into a sprint, because she’s here to surprise him and she’s excited to do it. She finished all of her classes earlier than she expected to, and even though she was a little disappointed to get back and not be able to see him right away, this will be worth it.   
  
He’s got a baseball cap on, and she recognizes the back of his shirt. She wraps her arms around him and breathes in deeply. But … it’s not her father. That much is clear when the back she has her face pressed into stiffens a little. _Oh, God._ She pulls away, much to the laughter of the group. Her father is laughing, too.   
  
“Katniss!” he says. “Wanna try that again?”   
  
She’s mortified, so when her father tries to hug her, she just sort of leans in to his chest.   
  
  
“This is Katniss. I was telling you about her. If her instincts are trying to say anything, she’d probably like to get to know you a little better, Peeta,” she hears her father joking. She’s staring down at the ground. The rest of the group goes on talking and laughing. Their game is about to start, so they head for the field. But not  _Peeta_. He stays right where he is.   
  
“Your dad did talk about you a lot,” he says quietly. She looks up and is momentarily relieved to see that he doesn’t look to be around her dad’s age. He looks a little closer to her age, actually. But … doesn’t that make it worse? He offers her a little smile. “Peeta.”   
  
“So I heard,” she says, desperately hoping to seem at least a little cool. “Are you on his softball team?”   
  
“God, no,” he says. “My dad is.”   
  
She swallows hard. “Yeah, mine too.”   
  
“So I heard,” he returns. “Come on. Let’s go hope no one breaks their hips.”   
  
  
They sit up towards the very top of the bleachers. There isn’t a particularly large crowd, and they don’t end up paying much attention to the game. She actually ends up with Peeta’s number in her phone by the time it’s halfway over.   
  
She’s grateful she just had Gale drop her off, because that means that she can sit in the passenger’s seat of her dad’s car and read Peeta’s texts.   
  
 **Peeta Mellark:  
** I guess our dads have been trying to play matchmaker for a while.   
 **  
Peeta Mellark:  
** Your father did an admirable job of acting like he didn’t expect to see you tonight.   
  
 **Katniss Everdeen:  
** lmao. He still hasn’t let on.   
  
 **Peeta Mellark:  
** Glad you had the idea he thought you would.   
  
 **Katniss Everdeen:  
** what do you mean?   
  
 **Peeta Mellark:**  
I mean that would have been the world’s most boring game in the world if it wasn’t for you :)

**Author's Note:**

> More prompts are always appreciated


End file.
